The Repercussions of Regret
by tambalina
Summary: Three years later, Christine is discontent with being the wife of nobility. She leaves for Paris to find Erik and satiate her most passionate desires. Who does she hurt in the process and can she redeem herself to those she turned her back on? ALW JS GL
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

Chapter One

Her fingers would not stop shaking uncontrollably. Christine could not decide if it was from the bitter, cold night or her nerves. Emerging from her carriage, she asked the driver to stay. The knitted shawl wrapped tightly around her body did little to shut out the piercing wind. This winter seemed particularly colder than the previous few years. She tried to stop her body from trembling but the icy breeze nipped feverishly at her nose and ears. After searching the city trying to find answers for over a week, she finally had the courage to return here. There was no other place that he could be. It was almost as though she were watching herself from a distance as Christine timidly stepped into the courtyard of the Opera Populaire.

Standing stoically, its spirit still haunted the Paris night sky. She had to take a moment to stare at her familiar childhood home. Christine felt her face grow hot as waves of guilt and trepidation filled her mind. She was not supposed to be here. Breathing faster and deeper, Christine contemplated whether to stay and finish what she came to do or abandon her search and retreat to the safe, but droning, comforts of her home. Nervously, she tiptoed frantically back to the carriage. Wrapping her glove around the door handle, she couldn't stop from taking one last look. As she turned towards the building, a heavy fog curled around the ominous building, swirling furiously around its marbled columns. Christine's presence, it seemed, brought the Opera House to life. Like its former master, it responded to her, demanding her attention. His obsession drew him to her. The passion they once shared brought her here this night. After paying and thanking the driver, Christine slowly turned back. In a trance, she found herself gliding across the stove-paved square to the footsteps of the theater.

Another four months would mark the third anniversary of the night that Christine chose beauty and youth over love. Now a wife and mother at nineteen, Christine often found her mind lingering back to her days at the Opera Populaire. Performing on stage had given her great satisfaction and now she felt docile playing the role of happy housewife and mother. Christine missed the attention she once received while performing on stage. Most days, as she mindlessly watched over her son, she daydreamed of her mysterious masked suitor and the connection she shared with him.

Raoul seldom mentioned that night, or even the events leading up to the burning of the Opera house. Anytime Christine was asked about her past, it caused awkward silences that she could not rescue herself from. Raoul could not find a way to come to her aide, either. Christine knew he was trying to protect her from the horror that the Phantom inflicted upon them all. There were many times that she wished that she could confide her fears with Raoul, but found herself once again comparing his companionship with Erik's. Inside she knew that Raoul felt Erik's presence in their marriage. Christine felt Raoul knew she would always belong to her teacher in most ways. He was good at masking his disdain. If Raoul was hurt in any way, he was able to shield his unhappiness from her.

Living without her self-appointed "Angel of Music" was hard for Christine to transition to. For years she thought he was the spirit of her father sent from Heaven to help her in her loneliness after his death. Christine thought of him as guardian, mentor and friend. She confided her inner thoughts and fears with him. After realizing that her supposed Angel was a real man preying upon her innocence and naivety, she felt hurt and betrayed. Even more so, she was confused. Though he betrayed her, she still had a sense of loyalty and duty to him. Raoul was a good and faithful husband, but he did not fill the void Erik left in her heart. Many times, when she found herself in an argument with Raoul over silly matters, she would secretly wish that Erik would mysteriously appear to rescue her from this life. She immediately felt guilty, but could not deny the fact that Erik was the first person she thought of when she sought comfort. Her childhood friend, Meg, didn't even have the depth of understanding of Christine as Erik did.

In fairness to Raoul, Christine was deliriously content in the beginning of their marriage. Raoul wasted no time after their escape to fulfill his promise to protect her. He was extremely doting and his "Little Lotte" was to have everything that her heart desired. They married in May, just two months after the Opera house incident. To keep Erik away, Raoul kept Christine by his side at all times. He felt a duty to shield and guard her. Christine couldn't blame Raoul in his zeal to keep her from Erik's menacing interference. They both feared that Erik might have regretted letting Christine go and return to take her away.

At Raoul's request, she cut off all ties to her former life. The hurt of isolating herself from Madame Giry and Meg was almost unbearable. They were like mother and sister to her. She knew, though, how fiercely loyal Madame Giry was of protecting Erik's secrets. Christine could not guarantee with any certainty that Madame Giry would keep their location safe from Erik. While she couldn't bear to think that she would reveal her whereabouts, Christine thought it best to err on the side of caution. Raoul didn't even have to ask her; Christine decided on her own to stop singing and live life as normally as possible. Both she and Raoul were determined to start their life together on a clean slate.

The Count and Countess de Chagny were more than willing to help their youngest son and his fiancee. After learning of Gustav Daae's death so many years ago, they often wondered of Christine's whereabouts and were thrilled to welcome her back into their lives. They even took it upon themselves to hold a lavish wedding for Christine and Raoul. Philippe, Raoul's older brother, was astonished to see how Christine had blossomed into such a captivating young woman. She could tell that Raoul was pleased.

Whether or not Christine felt it, in many ways she was obligated to Raoul and his family. She had alienated herself from everyone she knew and was thrust into a world foreign to her. Her father was well respected and had been an important figure in society, but Christine had no real training in proper etiquette and decorum. Sarah, Philippe's wife, became a close friend during the short time Christine spent there. They spent endless nights together planning the small details of Christine's wedding. After returning from their honeymoon in Madrid, Christine and Raoul were shocked to learn that Raoul's parents had given the newly wedded couple their first home, an estate in Champigny-sur Marne, as a wedding present.

Only fifteen kilometers from Paris, the seven-bedroom home was more than enough room for the two of them. It was along one of the more coveted banks of the Marne River. The community they lived in included many of France's most elite and prestigious families. Christine had her own handmaiden for housekeeping and a cook to prepare their meals. Raoul had spent his entire life being pampered and doted upon, but Christine was not used to the attention. She found it difficult to allow them to wait upon her and regarded them more as friends than her staff. The stableman and gardener of the manor had watched Raoul grow up. Raoul looked to them for guidance and comradeship. They had watched him grow up and were proud of the man he had become. Their household served them with great dignity and respect and Christine felt blessed to regard them as family.

On the days leading up to the year anniversary of the Phantom fiasco, Christine became sick with anxiety. So much had happened to her in the course of just one year. Taken to her bed, Raoul forced her to meet with the local physician who immediately prompted her to meet with the town's midwife. It was on the very anniversary of her ill-fated performance that Christine learned that she was pregnant with their first child. Raoul could not have been more pleased. Christine could understand why. Raoul reasoned that any doubts of Christine's happiness would be laid to rest when they became a family. Their son, Jean, was born December 14.

Now a boisterous boy of almost two, Jean was a mirror of his father in almost every way. He had Raoul's boyish good looks to his arrogant, but proud demeanor. The only defining trait he shared with Christine was the thick, curly brown hair that swirled chaotically on his head. She knew, however, that he would grow up to be like his father – noble, strong, but complacent. Raoul was captivated with him. He loved nothing more than to come home and play with his son. Raoul was thrilled with parenthood. For a while Christine was, too.

Being a mother and wife satisfied her primal existence, but as the days turned to weeks, then to months and years, she started to feel that a small part of her was dying. Every day was the same as the last. Christine felt that she was just going through what every woman went through. In between feedings, playtime, and meeting with neighbors and associates of Raoul she found herself daydreaming and reliving her memories from the Opera house. She would make excuses to leave the house and would leave Jean in the care of the cook. She would catch herself humming and singing songs from her past. On one trip to Paris, she stopped at a tailor to fit herself with new ballet slippers. She began to collect odd trinkets and mementos from the Opera Populaire and kept it all in a hatbox hidden in a spare bedroom. Her heart would race each time she added something new to the collection. She knew that Raoul would not be angry with her, but felt guilty nonetheless.

Then one night as she lay awake next to Raoul, she could not stop tears from dripping down the sides of her face. Her heart felt sad and empty. Her marriage, while safe, did not provide her the passion she craved. She knew that this was the life Raoul offered, but found herself brushing off his affection and advances. He never questioned or forced himself on her. She sought after this normalcy and now detested it more with each passing day. Raoul's mannerisms, voice and even his presence made her cringe inside. Upon hearing him come into the house, Christine would immediately move from room to room, avoiding him as much as possible. He seemed content to play with Jean. At night, it was Erik's voice that lulled her to sleep each night. As she closed her eyes to fade into sleep, she was comforted by the face of a man who wasn't her husband. Though she tried to fight it initially, she began to fantasize about Erik.

Every November, right before Jean's birthday, Raoul and Christine would join his parents and his brother's family for a vacation in the French countryside. She dreaded the thought of going again and wanted to spend sometime alone. She wanted to find Erik. Christine wanted to know if he was safe. She felt that this would be her only opportunity. Devising a plan, she decided that on her next trip to Paris, she would have an invitation commissioned at a stationery shop. It would be her only legitimate excuse to avoid the trip. Returning to Paris the second week in October, she placed it in the mail to be delivered to the manor in Champigny.

It conveniently arrived three days before they were to travel to the de Chagny estate. Christine enthusiastically showed her husband the invitation asking her to attend a gala in her honor in just one-week time. When Raoul offered to forgo their holiday and escort her, she quickly dismissed him. Raoul was hesitant to let her go. It might not be safe for her to go to Paris unaccompanied. She knew that Raoul's family was looking forward to seeing Jean. Christine feigned disappointment, but insistently asked if she should go. She argued that it was time to put the past behind them. Besides, she reasoned to him, his parents were so looking forward to spending some time with their only grandchild. Raoul could rarely deny her anything she asked of him.

And so it was decided. Raoul would escort her to Paris, where she would be able to stay at a local hotel for an extended stay. Francois, the stableman, would bring the carriage in two weeks so that she may return and spend the remaining week of her holiday alone resting at home. Raoul and Jean would return right before Jean's birthday. Christine was jubilant over the success of her scheming. It was only until she kissed her son farewell excitedly, that her guilt set in. She was betraying the oath she made to Raoul and the intrinsic trust she held as the mother of her family, but now it was too late to go back. She had to find him.

No one in town could even validate Erik's existence, let alone his whereabouts. The newspapers were able to convince the majority of the town that the closing of the Opera house was merely to blame on a simple stage fire that escalated into the destruction of the building. When Christine tried to locate her former cast mates and dancers, she was saddened to discover that they were unable to find work in Paris and had scattered across the country. The local playhouses refused to let them perform in their troops fearing that the Phantom would follow and lead them to ruin. Madame Giry and Meg seemed to have disappeared as well.

Most tragic of all, Christine learned that La Carlotta had passed away seven months ago. After returning to Italy, the theaters refused to accept her. She was far too old and dated to debut as a headliner. Not finding success, she returned to Paris in the hopes that the "Phantom fiasco" was finally over. After two months of no work and her landlord threatening to put her back on the street, she resorted to joining a brothel. Soon after, the local authorities reported that she was found dead in a hotel room, an empty vial of opiates lying next to her. Christine was comforted only slightly after she learned that her body was laid to rest next to Ublando's.

She knew the horror that Erik was capable of. He was largely regarded as a murderer and manipulator. However, Christine was one of the few people who knew that there was a gentle and vulnerable man behind his mask. The tenderness that he held her with was what brought her here. Christine could still remember the release he had after she kissed him. She did not doubt that Erik had changed since that night. There was only one place she thought he could be. Hiring a coach, she traveled back to the theater. Erik could no longer be the monster he once was. Christine had to believe that her love changed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Phanatic**: _Thank you soooo much for giving my first words of encouragement. With all the great stories out there, I appreciate the time you took to read mine! I hope to live up to expectations . . ._

* * *

Chapter Two

The stone gargoyles guarding the entrance were haloed by the moon's light. The folds and cracks of their faces glowed with a luminescent sheen. Christine could see her breath swirling in the winter night's sky. Inside, she was burning. The Opera Populaire was housed in a stone temple that was once filled with laughter, music and joy. It was the elite theater for modern Paris. In its grandest splendor, the theater was a demanding presence. Now, with the entrances and windows were closed off with rotted boards that stank of mold and decay, it seemed as though it coward from embarrassment. Christine took her gloves off to touch the granite columns she used to climb on as a child. It might have been the hardening of her heart, but she thought it felt hollowed, lifeless. This theater molded her life beyond her control. For the first time in a long while, she felt at peace with herself. She finally felt at home.

The boards were easy enough to pull away. The stories of the Phantom still frightened the people of Paris and the building was left to perish along with its infamous ghost. The rancid smell of decay wafted from within. Gagging, Christine folded a handkerchief over her mouth as she squeezed her way into the crevice she made for herself. Once her eyes accustomed to the darkness she was surprised to see that, inside, the great hall was still magnificently preserved in its original splendor.

The red velvet tapestries were draped with the utmost care and precision. The bronzed statues gleamed. Christine took for granted that, even in the dead of winter, there was heat in the air. Once she felt the warmth returning to her fingers, Christine's heart beat with fervor. She always knew that there was a chance that her Angel did not make it through that night. Although he painted himself as a monster, Christine knew that he was still fragile and vulnerable. It gave her hope. Everything was still maintained, and she knew of only one person that would have taken it upon himself to serve as the groundskeeper.

Admiring her reflection in the polished marble floor, Christine made her way up the sweeping staircase that led to the entrance of the auditorium. The familiarity of it all caused an odd tingle that radiated from the back of her head to spread over her body. Giddy, she took her time reminiscing as she traveled to the double door entry. The brass lion knockers seemed as though they were still determined guardians protecting the theater against unwelcome intruders. Her long fingers had barely touched the overstated gold handle when Christine pulled back hesitantly. When she opened this door, she knew there would be no going back. Trembling, it was the vision of Erik that reassured her. She could remember the warmth of his body. The memories of him played vividly in her mind. Christine could remember his musky scent as he held her close to him. She opened her eyes. Resolute and steadfast, Christine firmly grasped the ring trapped in the mouth of the beast and pulled with all the ferocity she had.

The fluttering of hundreds of moths filled Christine's ears as they swarmed around her. She couldn't help but shrillingly scream as they weaved about on her skin and through her hair. Beating her dress and hair with her handkerchief, she twirled and ran away from the door, still shrieking. After they had flown away, she heartily laughed out of relief and mild humiliation. Christine was shocked to see that, in stark contrast to the lobby, the seating area was filled with cobwebs and covered with dust. The stage remained charred and Christine saw that little, if any, had been done to restore it. Again her guilt set it as she stared at the remains of her beloved theater. The chandelier had crushed the middle seating area. The crystals were still scattered across the floor. The once grandiose stage curtain was tattered and hung limp on the rafters. Though she half expected it, a small part of her was stunned to see the opera house like this. She never before saw the aftermath of her performance.

Christine solemnly left the room and carefully shut the door behind her. Tears welled in her eyes and she found herself gasping for breath. She ran back to the alcove that oversaw the atrium. A cold sweat beaded on her forehead. "Perhaps," she thought to herself, "It's better this way. I shouldn't have come here. I don't belong here anymore. Maybe I wasn't supposed to come back." She left the balcony and began descending down the stairs. She whispered to herself, "I am not ready for this." Just as her foot grazed the last step, Christine heard an organ start playing from the theater hall. Her heart began beating rapidly once again as she felt a surge of warmth flow through her. Though her first instinct was to leave, curiosity got the best of her. Christine found herself once again making her way back to the auditorium.

Fighting her way through the cobwebs, she headed towards the orchestra pit. There was no one sitting at the organ. Puzzled, it took her a moment to realize that it wasn't the organ standing before her that was playing. The music emanated from below the stage. She knew of only one other instrument like it in the opera house and even had the opportunity to hear it being played by her mentor. "He is here," she thought to herself, once again feeling ecstatic at the thought of seeing him again. Christine dared not follow the entrance to the lair from the stage. It was too risky and Christine didn't trust herself enough to avoid the traps Erik had guided her through. She instead chose to go through the leading lady's dressing suite, a safer, more reliable route.

The key sitting in the door lock still had the tassel attached. Christine was able to turn it with ease. Not to make the same mistake, she thrust the door open and furiously ran to a corner of the hallway. She had to softly laugh at herself when she saw that nothing was flying out. The dressing room, like the lobby, was still in pristine condition. The velvet on the chaise lounge was still soft as she ran her fingers over the arched support of the chair. The mirrored doorway that guarded the entrance into the caverns remained sealed. Hearing the music echo off the walls, Christine pushed the mirror aside to the right to reveal the passageway to Erik's lair.

Her fingers once again trembled, but Christine pushed past her fear to follow the music. The music was especially haunting as she tried to make her way through the unlit corridor. Encased in darkness, Christine tried not to think of the grime on the wall as she felt her way down the winding walkway. The organ continued to play, but it did not have the warmth that she was accustomed to hearing. She thought that, perhaps, she did drive Erik to madness. She would not be able to tell how Erik would respond to her. Chances were he wouldn't have even known of her arrival. Christine was sure that in the past few years many intruders had tried to roam the theater. There were probably traps she wasn't aware of.

Fearing that she might unwittingly set one off, Christine thought better of walking any further and ran back up the stairs. She was careless and did not retrace her steps exactly. When she reached one of the platforms, she yelped as her foot caused a stone to sink lower. A loud thunk radiated through the caverns. The music abruptly stopped. Panicking, she tried to run even faster, but as soon as her foot lifted off the stone, the floor gave out from under her.

Christine started tumbling down a slide and landed into a room void of light or warmth. Flustered and confused, Christine reprimanded herself for not knowing better. Her eyes saw green spots flashing around the room. Once her eyes acclimated to the darkness, she saw a tiny sliver of white light peaking out from the bottom of the far wall. She quickly crawled to the corner and felt the ground become damp and muddy. Christine tried pulling the ground away from the wall using her hands, but the coldness made her fingers stiff and rigid. With each pull and scrape, the tips of her fingers felt emblazoned with sharp tingling and prickles. It did not seem to matter how much Christine was able to shovel away, the mud and water quickly replaced the dirt she unearthed. It wasn't long before the light disappeared completely.

Determined, Christine tried to force herself through the wall. Lying on her back, she kicked the stones in hopes of dislodging them. Her face grew hot and Christine found herself growing tired. Manic set in and she could feel the walls closing in on her. Her breathing became labored and Christine could feel sweat from her brow dripping down her face. She knew she couldn't continue at this pace. When she couldn't kick anymore, she slowly crawled back into the middle of the room where it was dry.

Alone and afraid, she lay down on the floor and wept softly to herself. "I'm going to die here," she quietly sobbed to herself. Jean's little round face kept coming to her mind and she began to regret coming to this God-forsaken place. Her exertion came over her and she felt herself shake in spite of herself. The sweat was soaking into her clothing. To keep herself awake, Christine began to sing to herself. When she heard someone walking outside, she screamed out, "Please, it's me, Christine!" Staggering to the wall, she continued, "Let me out! I had to see you. Please, please, get me out of here. I only wanted to know if you are all right. I didn't mean to intrude."

A bright light erupted from the wall where a brick had just been removed. Not being able to see, she covered her eyes with her hands. Christine saw the silhouette of him for a brief moment before she noticed a cloud of misty white smoke enter the cell. Christine suddenly felt nauseated. She began to cough hysterically. She became so lightheaded that she retreated back into the room and collapsed on the floor in a daze. Her eyelids became heavy, but Christine tried to force herself to remain alert. Her body could not resist and Christine finally surrendered to the effects. Darkness came over her as she faded into a forced sleep. The last thing she could remember before her eyes shut was the feeling of a cloak skimming over her body.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Phanatic:** _Thanks again! Your works looks amazing. Look for my review soon!_

**Silvermasque:** _You are awesome! Your stories are so much fun! I'll review soon. I appreciate the praise! Thanks again!_

_

* * *

_Chapter Three 

The taste in her mouth was alkaline, but sweet. Christine's throat burned, and though she tried to swallow, she couldn't. She gagged instead. Alarmed, her body instinctively tried to jolt up, but she couldn't. The peculiar smell finally registered. A cloth soaked in petrol had been stuffed in her mouth. Her hands and feet were bound so tightly with rope that all feeling had left them. Each move of her body made Christine's head pulse and throb in agony. The candles in the room had been burnt down so low that she could barely see that she was in the small confines of a closet. While the theater was in use, it was used to store small stage props. She tried to tear her legs and arms free, but it only caused a sharp, burning sensation to wave all over her body. When she heard rustling outside the door Christine froze, hoping that whatever was out there wouldn't hear her trying to escape from her bindings.

A shrill, coarse voice bellowed from the other side of the closed door. "Is our little diva finally waking up from her nap?" The door was kicked open, knocking Christine in the face. A sinister laugh erupted from her captor. "Always in the wrong place at the wrong time, aren't you? I trust you slept well, mon cherie. Everyday, I dreamt that this opportunity would be given to me. As time wore on, my hope diminished, but it seems that fate is in my corner. I always hoped you would return here someday. And, look! Here you are." Christine's head was pounding. She knew that this could not be Erik. She spent her childhood being lulled to the softness of Erik's singing. This voice was not his, but something about it sounded oddly familiar. Christine couldn't place how or why.

Panic set in and Christine tried to shield herself by cowering and shifting to a corner. Her assailant laughed again. "Oh, poor girl, are you frightened? You shouldn't be. In fact, if I remember correctly, it isn't in your nature to want to fade into the background. You always had to be the center of the stage." Christine yelped in agony as her attacker firmly grabbed her by her hair. "So let's put you where you belong!" Christine was dragged to the stage and firmly thrown to the floor on her knees. As she tried to glance up at her captor, Christine was immediately thrown back from being pounded across her forehead by her assailant.

Feeling the wet, warm flow of blood trickle down her face, Christine softly sobbed to herself. Only the slight sound of moaning came from her gagged mouth. "Why the tears, little one?" The dark figure asked as it hovered over her. "I am sure you being here is no accident. There must be some reason for your return." When she finally mustered the courage, Christine returned her glance up at her captor. Christine could make out a black satin cape that softly reflected what little light was in the room, but the face was hidden by an enormous black cap. "I wonder. What brings the little diva back? Could it be she come to repent for her sins?" The figure began pacing around her. "No, that would take a great deal of character and remorse, both of which you lack severely." It snickered again. "Hard to defend yourself? I suppose I could be gracious and allow you to reply, this once."

The Phantom untied the cloth from her mouth. Furiously spitting the sopping rag from her mouth, Christine sputtered as she inhaled. Coughing, she started to feel sick and began gagging. She could not stop the bile from coming up and she vomited across the front of her dress. "Tsk, tsk, Christine. How revolting. Your dress is ruined now," it jeered at her. Christine looked down in embarrassment. "At a loss for words? Don't you see? You deserve this. You wasted the affections of a man who would give you the world if he could. We were his puppets he controlled for your amusement. He held our lives in his hands and you chose to throw it all away. You deserted us." Its voice softened. "And we let you."

Sinking to its knees, the abductor looked Christine in the face as Christine began crying out, "Please, f-forgive me. I didn't mean to – I n-n-never meant to –" Christine's voice trailed off as she looked in horror upon her tormentor. Beneath the brim of its hat, Christine saw the phantom's ubiquitous white mask. She knew it wasn't Erik, but was shocked to see that it wasn't a man either. Her strikingly blue eyes and the delicate features of her face peeked from underneath. The voice. It became all too familiar to her. Christine didn't have to ask, she knew. "Meg!"

Speaking mostly to herself, Meg whispered, "He could have had anyone, but he chose you. What made you so worthy? Any one of us would have loved the opportunity." Looking back at Christine, she said more forcefully, "You didn't deserve his adoration, his brilliance!"

"Meg, I –"

"You didn't even tell ME," Meg interrupted. "We were like sisters. My mother and I regarded you as family. All those years, and you never said a thing!"

"Meg, you don't understand. How could I have known? I didn't intentionally keep it from you," Christine lamented. "How was I supposed to know what he was, or why he gave me lessons? I thought it was my father. He kept telling me it was our own special secret. I never thought that anything like that would ever have happened. I never meant to hurt any of you."

"And that's why you ran away, right?" Meg jeered in return. "When all of us were wondering what to do next, or how we expected to make a living, you and your Viscount escape to a better life. You selfish pig," Meg screamed. "Everyday we had to question whether or not you were even still alive." Meg snapped up on her feet. "My mother cried on end for both you and Erik. She couldn't even take care of herself most days. We didn't eat, sometimes, for days! I had to beg for table scraps so we wouldn't starve to death. And every day, I was thankful that at least we were still alive," Meg said in disgust.

"I would read the paper every day to see if anyone had seen you or if your bodies had turned up. Imagine my surprise when I read about your lavish wedding in the society pages. All that fear and worrying – and you were celebrating! You didn't even have the decency to tell us that you were safe."

"I wanted to tell you! Raoul made me stay away. He wanted to make sure that I would be safe from him, "Christine cried. "I wanted to see you both again, but I couldn't go back to that life. I needed to begin fresh, untainted," Christine cried in retaliation. "What happened that night was one of the worst things I have ever had to experience. You can't blame me for wanting a better life."

"No I can't blame you for wanting that," Meg answered quietly. "But I can blame you for abandoning us in our time of need. After all my family did for you. That night was hard for all of us to endure, but it was what happened afterwards that was far, far worse. How convenient for you that you had your whole life set before you on a silver platter while the rest of us had to beg for food and shelter. That night would never have happened if you hadn't invoked his wrath. We were all at YOUR mercy, not his. You can never take back what happened that night. Some might have forgiven you, but I cannot. And poor Carlotta -"

"That was not my fault," Christine snapped back more abruptly than she should. "None of this is. How can you blame me for anything beyond my control?"

"Christine," Meg said tartly, "I might have been your loyal friend before, but I don't think you are now in a position to argue. Lest I need remind you again," Meg hissed at Christine menacingly. Christine did not need to answer back. "Besides, playing coy has no effect on me. We grew up together; I know all of your tricks. It was you that taught me how to seek off in the middle of the night to raid storage pantry of wines and sweets. You were the one who showed me how to twist words to get what I wanted from people. So by revealing your secrets to me, you also taught me how to see right through you. You might have been able to deceive everyone else, but I know how deep your treachery lies." Christine's cheeks flushed red and she felt her breathing become more rapid. "Now look at you, you are too proud to admit it," Meg taunted. "And what's worse is that you know you were wrong in doing it. Yet, still, you feel no remorse or guilt."

Meg peeled away her cape and Christine was astonished to see that Meg was wearing the shimmering, white dress from her performance as Elissa in Hannibal. Noticing that Christine was taken aback, Meg cooed, "White was never your color and your bone structure is too harsh." Her long, golden curls tumbled out as Meg lifted the cap from her head. Admiring herself she whispered, "On me, it's beautiful, though. You might have been his inspiration, but I am his conception realized." Meg balanced herself on her toes and began pirouetting to an imaginary song she softly hummed to herself. Spinning across the stage at incredible speed, Meg called, "See, Christine, I always had the grace and poise." She stopped suddenly. "You were the clumsy oaf with huge feet and a terrible sense of rhythm. How many times did my mother have to reprimand your forms and techniques? I was the one charted for glory and success. He promised my mother that it would be me. I thought I was the one being groomed. Your fame should have been mine!"

"Meg, I never wanted fame. Not at the expense it cost me. I thought that you were happy for me," Christine pleaded. "You always said you were proud of me."

"And so did everyone else! All those years, I felt sorry for you. To lose your mother and your father so young," Meg continued, "Would be difficult for anyone. But do you know how tiring it was to have listen and watch people coddle over you, sympathizing their hearts out to you at every opportunity, always praising for the smallest mundane tasks? I lost my father, too. But he was merely a stagehand, not a famous, wealthy musician."

"Meg, your father was a wonderful man. Everyone missed him. You know that," said Christine.

"Well, I didn't have any dignitary officials making it a point to introduce themselves to me. And, when you were around, people considered my father an insignificant nobody. Plus, how could I complain when I still had my mother?" Meg cried out even fiercer, "I have always been second best to you Christine! Not for any longer. The Phantom will know. He will know that I would never desert him. That I alone have been faithful to him!"

Meg gently pulled off the mask. Running her fingers across it gingerly, Meg whispered, "I will wait, forever if I have to, for him to see me as I see him." She looked back to Christine, "He left this behind. When we went down to find you, this was the only marker he left. I saved it for you, hoping you would return. You were supposed to come back." Meg started inching closer to Christine in a threatening manner. "See, I knew you would come back," Meg snarled. "But not to make amends with old friends. You are here for Him, aren't you?"

The look of terror on Christine's face caused Meg to cackle once again, "Silly girl! Did you think he would just wait for you forever? This time you won't win. He is mine now," Meg growled. "I preside over this theater house and you shall be punished for trespassing."

Trying to get away, Christine began shifting her weight backwards. She continued to crawl back until a horrible bowing noise creaked from the floor. Christine cried out, "Please, Meg, stop! It's not safe!" She could feel the boards beneath her start bending and popping. Just as Meg as about to reach her, a splitting crack caused part of the floor give way. Both of them stopped. Meg jumped back in time to see the edge around the existing hole in the stage sink into the void taking Christine along to the emptiness below.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Phanatic & Silvermasque:**_ What can I say? You guys rock! Glad you are enjoying it!

* * *

_Chapter Four 

Christine tumbled onto a stove-paved walkway. Landing on her shoulder, the thrust of the fall caused it to dislocate. She shrieked in agony. Angry, she yelled at herself, "Why? Why did I come here?" Fearing that Meg would soon follow, Christine hobbled herself to a damp, dark corner. She threw herself against the wall and pushed her tender shoulder back into its socket. Her scream echoed across the corridor.

She forcefully tried loosening the ropes around her ankles by thrashing her feet in every direction. Meg would find her soon and she was losing time. She needed to escape this place. It didn't matter how hard she wiggled her ankles; the bindings remained taut. Christine decided to chance her luck and was able to bring herself up to a stand again. Hopping along the wall, Christine desperately tired to make her way back to the dressing room.

The throbbing in her legs from lack of circulation caused them to cramp uncontrollably. Biting her bottom lip, Christine tried to push through the pain, but fell over each step she tried to jump up to. She knew that she would not be able to escape in time. Almost surrendering to her fate, Christine became still, only silent teardrops streaking down her face. At first, she did not think anything of the small rustling she heard from the darkness behind her. There were all sorts of living things that called the underground lake home, rats being the most prominent. But the noise was becoming louder and more pronounced. Much louder than she thought any small animal could accomplish on its own.

Her heart began racing again as she furiously tried to find out where it was coming from. At one point, it seemed as though it was right next to her. She could feel the breeze it made while she had her head turned in a different direction. There wasn't anything there. As she kept looking, Christine could hear Meg starting down the secret corridor.

Christine struggled to get up once again. She still could not stop her tears and she knew that she was sobbing softly. She decided that she would have to head back down into the lair if she were to find a way to survive. Leaping back down the steps, Christine took one jump too far and began to drop. Her body rolled along the hard, cold stones until she reached the landing of the lake. Still in a daze, she was alarmed as a dark hooded figure hovered over her. It kneeled beside her. Just as about Christine was about to scream, it covered her mouth with its hand. Asking her to keep quiet, Christine watched as it headed back up the stairs partially, listening for Meg.

Returning to her, it whispered, "She will hear you, little one." It whispered into her ear. "You are not safe here. I believe she plans on killing you when she finds you. I will take you to safety." Her rescuer cradled her gently beneath her head and knees.

As she was lifted, Christine immediately felt relieved and comforted by the warm touch of its hands. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm an old friend." It answered back. "We are wasting time, I need to get you out of here." Christine was carefully place over its shoulder.

Christine's mysterious rescuer carried her back up the stairwell again, pausing occasionally to see if Meg was nearby. It carried her to a nook along a wall and placed her down gently. Christine watched as her rescuer felt along the walls and press three stones in succession. Checking once more for Meg, it pushed in the last stone in slightly. A loud "click" emanated from the wall and Christine saw the wall open inward. Christine was quickly pulled in and the door was abruptly shut behind them.

The room was pitch black and Christine stood right where she was. The only sounds she heard were from her hooded friend shifting around in the darkness. From the corner she saw a small lantern light up. The space was small, tiny even. There was barely room for a makeshift bed on the floor and a small cupboard that held a pitcher of water and a small basin on top. There were no other doors that Christine could see and she started to feel trapped. Her friend retrieved her a goblet of water from the basin on top of the cupboard.

"If I can get you to the upper levels, I would be able to help you escape. There is only one way that I know is safe," it whispered hoarsely, obviously winded. Its voice was soft and Christine was put at ease. Her hooded avenger came to her aid from across the room, "We must be quiet," it whispered. "She still might be able to hear us though the walls." While it was releasing her hands, its touch caused a tiny surge of excitement from Christine's stomach.

"Let's get you out of these," pointing to the ropes still tied around her hands and ankles. It led her to the bed and began to release her feet. During their attempt to leave, she could not ask any more questions. Now curiosity was getting the best of her. Christine peered inside the heavy hood to see its face. It snapped back suddenly. "I'm sorry," Christine whispered. "I should have asked. Forgive me." When Christine hands were freed, she grasped her left wrist in pain.

It came forward again, holding her hand delicately. "You might have broken it. Let me see it," it asked gruffly. It took her hand tenderly into its own. Christine winced in pain as it rotated her hand in a circle. "You are lucky, Madame. It is only a sprain. Please, if you'll allow me," it asked as it held the bottom hem of her dress. With Christine's permission, it ripped off the hem and started to wrap it tightly around her wrist. "This will help." Its hand lingered almost too long on hers. Christine pulled her wrist back into her lap.

"We will rest here for you to get some strength back." Her rescuer stood up and went back to the cabinet for some food. Christine took it gratefully. "Luckily, she does not know that this room even exists." It motioned to the bed. "Please, make yourself comfortable – as possible. You should try to sleep if you can." It added, "I will listen for her, just to be safe." When it got up to resume keeping post, Christine pulled on its cloak.

"Please, I have had enough surprises tonight." Christine tugged her champion in front of her. Christine pulled herself up from the bed. "Let me see your face. Don't I deserve to know who my rescuer is?" Christine tried not to breathe fast. Her heart was racing. She put her hands on the folds of the hood. As she started to pull it back, a loud noise bellowed from outside the door. Her avenger rose sharply, guarding against the wall. After waiting for some time, Christine asked again, "Sit with me, please." She held her hand out. Her rescuer took it and knelt down on the bed. Christine sat on her knees. She gently pulled off the gloves one finger at a time. Christine traced the lines etched into his thick palm. She brought it to her cheek. "Did you think I wouldn't remember how you feel? It was your touch that gave you away." A tear trickled down her porcelain face. "I just wanted to know that you were safe." She broke down in sobs. "I am so glad that you are all right. I've missed you more than you know." Christine dropped his hand and began to wipe the tears from her eyes.

He cradled her against his chest. He whispered softly, "Stop crying, my dear, please. I cannot bear the sight of it." Erik gently kissed the top of her head. "You shouldn't have come back, little one. You have put yourself in great danger coming back here." He looked at her directly, breathing deeply. "All the same, seeing your face . . . I can't tell you how happy it makes me to see you again. I didn't know that I would even have the privilege." He inspected her face from side to side. "These past few years have been kind to you. You are even more beautiful than I remembered."

Christine slipped the hood off. His vibrant green eyes glowed in the dim light. He tried to shield his deformity from her, but Christine made him stare directly into her eyes. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are the only person who has truly known me. You will always be beautiful in my eyes." Christine could not stop smiling in spite of herself. "Inside my heart, I knew we would see each other again, Erik."

Upon hearing that, Erik let out a deep sigh and buried his face in his hands, sobbing quietly. He whispered, "It's been so long since anyone has called me by that name. I wouldn't let anyone call me by it. I bear it, gladly, from you." He turned off to the side, "I've spent too many years pretending to be something greater than what I am." Looking back at Christine, he smiled softly and said, "I'm not really the person you once remembered, Christine. I have changed. I am trying to earn my salvation. I needed to be the man you once thought me to be."

Christine placed her hands on each side of its face. Feeling along the line of the jaw, she laughed finding the scruff of his beard. It was true. He was hardly the menacing madman that Christine had run away from that night. Pale and soft, it was evident that Erik had suffered since going into hiding. He was a shadow of his former self, but the spark in his eyes still flickered. He no longer groomed himself to perfection, but his dishevelment only deepened her appreciation and admiration for him. When Christine looked into his face, she discovered he had an inner peace. As he spoke to her, he was gentle and soft-spoken, two traits that Christine did not know he possessed.

"I let you go that night to escape from this," Erik began arguing. "Surely your life must be in a better state than to return to this nightmare."

"I should never have left you that night," Christine started. It was all Erik needed to hear. He simply placed his finger over her lips, pulled her close and gave her the deep embrace he had been waiting so long to make.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

_**Author's Note:** I, being a romance novel reader myself (I'm not too ashamed to admit that,) felt that Erik needed SOME type of compensation for all the hardships he has had to endure. The following chapter does have some, shall we say,** intense**, parts and are not for the timid of heart. However, I have out into consideration that some people don't appreciate that type of narrative and have blocked off the story using those nifty divders. If you are one of those who would rather not read some racy material, please forward ahead to the second ruler and continue the story. For all you raunchy peeps like me, please enjoy. I had a lot of fun writing it. (I mean, come on! With Gerard as my inspiration, I have some obligation to act out some fantasies until he comes to his senses and marries me, right! I have a sad, sad life.- t_

* * *

**Phanatic**: _Yes, praise is justly given because without people like you I would never have the confidence to share this story! _

**Silvermasque**: _Your comments are always so nice and I appreciate everyone of them sooooo wholeheartedly!_

**Han Solo666**: _Welcome along for the ride. I am glad you are enjoying it!_

* * *

Chapter Five 

Erik kissed her forehead tenderly after their long embrace. Resting his chin on top of her head, he whispered, "I did not think that I would ever be able to repay you for the kindness you showed me that night. In that one moment, you changed my life forever." Burying his cheek into her hair, he said softy, "I love you so, Christine." He pulled away and smiled at her. "I hoped every day that you would return. I wanted you to see that I am trying to redeem my treacherous ways." He picked her hand up and gently kissed her knuckles, one at a time. He continued, "I need you to be proud of me." Staring at her for a moment, his brow furrowed, "But you are not supposed to be here. Why – why would you come back here?"

Christine was slightly stung by this last comment. Perhaps it was her naitivity, but she would not have imagined Erik questioning her motives. She thought that he would welcome her joyfully. "It doesn't matter, now. I'm here," she answered slyly, hoping that it was all Erik needed to here. Erik dropped her hand and rose from the bed. He turned his back and walked into the shallow corner of the room. Her smiled faded. "I thought you would be happy to see me." Faced with his rejection, Christine's eyes began to water. She told herself that she shouldn't be upset over something this trite. As she spoke, her voice trembled. She tried to stop herself from crying. Before embarrassment got the best of her, she sobbingly asked, "Are – Aren't you – even relieved to see me here?" Tears erupted and Christine covered her eyes with her hands as she sobbed.

"Yes, yes, of course, my dear. I have already told you." Erik quickly came down to her. He firmly grasped her hand to look her in the eyes. "I could not imagine a greater joy than you being here with me." Cupping her face, Erik wiped away her tears with his thumbs. "Christine, please, stop crying." Erik pulled Christine's head to his chest. "I cannot even begin to show you what it means to me that you are in my arms right now. But you have to understand, I let you go. I wanted you to go." He smiled at Christine. "You needed to see the world outside of this wretched place. He . . ." Erik paused. "He offered you a life I could never have given to you." He rose again. "You deserved the best." Erik turned away from her. "Besides, you chose him. You wanted to leave me." His body slumped as he whispered, "I told you to leave."

Christine stood up and walked to him. She caressed the small of his back. As she wrapped her arms around his waist, she buried her face into the back of his shirt. "I didn't know what I was leaving until it was too late," she said softly. "I never meant to hurt you." Her breath was warm against him. Erik turned and embraced her in his arms.

"I know you didn't, little one. You can't blame yourself. It was never your fault – any of it. It hurt you. I was – " He fought to find the words, "A monster." He paused. "You were my weakness. I adored you." Erik held her tighter. "I still do. I always will." He returned to face the empty wall. "My obsession drove you away. It took control of me. I committed such horrible acts that I didn't even know I was capable of doing. I will never be able to forgive myself of what I did to you, to Madame Giry, to . . . everyone."

"You are not the same man, Erik. I can see it," Christine called out to him. "The man I knew before never would have repented. He would never admit to fault." She absentmindedly began to twirl her hair between her fingers. "I hope you know that I don't hold any of it against you. I doubt many do." Erik simply nodded his head once. "It's been three years."

"Not long enough," Erik hoarsely whispered. He let out a huge sigh before asking, "Why are you here Christine?"

Her eyes started to well up with tears again. She answered before she had a chance to get overly upset. "I couldn't do it anymore." An exasperated sigh escaped her mouth as she sat herself on the floor. "Everyday is the same as the last. I've become boring and complacent. I look in the mirror and can't recognize the person staring back at me anymore." Putting her head on her knees, she croaked, "I – I don't know what is wrong with me. I shouldn't complain, but I need . . . passion, excitement - some feeling that I haven't felt in such a long time. When I would go to sleep, you were all I could think about. I found myself daydreaming of you during the day." She looked back up to Erik. "I relive that night everyday and wonder if I made the right choice." Christine's eyes pleaded to Erik. "I was only sixteen. I didn't know. Raoul was safe, familiar. It was comforting. He made me feel safe and secure. In the beginning I thought about how happy my father would be, knowing that Raoul would be there to take care. My father was so fond of him. I didn't know Raoul would take me away from everything I have ever loved." The oil lamp flickered. "How could I know what I would lose? I love you, Erik. I may not have known it then, but I know it now."

"But your husband - " Erik tried to reason.

"I told you. I made a mistake. How can prove to you that it is you that I want to be with?" Christine begged him. "My life is empty without you. Would you have me suffer another day without your affection?"

Erik walked to her. He caressed the tendrils of hair framing her face. "Your happiness is my greatest desire. How could I deny you of anything you so wished?" He smiled gently. "I have always been your dutiful servant. You need only to ask."

Christine, joyous at return of her affection, stroked the left side of his brow. When he flinched instinctively, she whispered softly, "Please, don't. You are beautiful. All of you." Her lips met his temple and she slowed trailed her kisses down the side of his face. When she reached for his lips, he pulled back. The look of excitement and anticipation on her face was too much for Erik to bear. Hesitating for a moment, he quickly surrendered and aggressively pulled Christine into his body, pressing his lips gently into hers. Erik traced her back with his hands. Christine was surprised at the strength of them.

As their embrace became more impassioned, she pulled away suddenly, much to Erik's astonishment. He quickly realized what she was after as she slowly unpinned her collar and released her hair from its stately form. After releasing her curls, she looked back to Erik lustfully. The look of desire on her face was obvious. Her forwardness took him by surprise. As Erik stood watching in amazement, Christine beckoned him to her side. Erik was only too eager to comply. He knew what she was asking of him. He yearned for his satisfaction as much as she yearned for hers.

* * *

She began to undo the tiny buttons on the front of her chest revealing her petticoat. Christine took his hand and placed it around her waist. Pulling him in, she kissed him vigorously. She savored his taste as he penetrated her mouth with his tongue. Just when she thought she couldn't wait any longer, Erik hoisted her up in his arms. Christine stared longingly at him as he carried her to his bed. He laid her head gently upon a soft pillow. He took in the moment gazing how her hair framed around her face perfectly. Erik wanted to make sure he remembered this moment. 

Abandoning inhibition, Erik ripped his shirt over his head and carelessly threw it off to the side. His chest and shoulders glistened in the muted light. Christine flipped him on his back and straddled his waist. Bending down, she began to feverishly nuzzle into his neck, gently biting and sucking. In the midst of his pleasure, Erik slid his hand up her legs and began to undo the clasp of her stockings. His hand lingered on the inside her thighs for only a moment as he peeled them away from her legs.

Erik sat up with Christine in his lap and began to kiss her deeply again. The silk dress slipped off her shoulders. Their skin became moist with sweat. He moved his lips to her ears where he licked them delicately with his tongue. Christine felt her excitement from within and moaned softly to him, "Touch me." Wanting to please her, Erik continued kissing down her neck while stroking her thighs, his hands slowly moving up to her breasts. They were firm with delight. Erik untied the cord and released them from their confines. His mouth made its way down and began to lavishly spoil them.

Christine could feel his pleasure forming beneath her. Her breathing had become deeper and faster. Their excitement fed off each other. Soon, Erik turned Christine back to the floor. Reaching up her dress, he pulled down her underskirt and tossed them to the side. Christine was beside herself with anticipation. She tore off her dress and left it on the floor in a crumpled pile. Her hands had directed themselves to the only thing standing in the way of her satisfaction and she undid his belt. Naked and glistening, Erik nestled himself into Christine's welcoming legs. She sighed as he glided himself into her, finally satisified.

Christine had never known a man's touch like this. It seemed as though he instictively knew how to please her best. He was rough, but his touch was gentle. Erik continued to push his passion inside of her. Moaning, she could not help but relish in this moment. He would bring her to her breaking point, and then slow down, teasing her body. She kept whispering to Erik, "More," and then "Harder." He obliged and her pleasure became more intensified. She found that she could not stop the waves of delight washing over her body. Erik savored in her enjoyment and released himself in her.

* * *

His gratification was exhausting and he rested his head on her stomach. Christine stroked his hair, smiling. They sat in silence, basking in the afterglow of their guilty pleasure. After a few moments, Erik rose and began trailing kisses up to her lips. As he did, Christine whispered, "Say this will never end. Stay with me." 

"Forever," Erik answered. He kissed her again. "Forever." Breathless, he kissed her forehead. "We'll leave tomorrow. We'll put this forsaken place behind us. We'll begin fresh, no ties left behind." He kissed her shoulder and laid beside her. "It will be a brand new beginning for us both, but for now we should rest. We are safe here."

Christine folded herself into his body. As she closed her eyes, her last thought before she fell to sleep was the happiness she had never felt with anyone else before. She knew tomorrow would be the start of a whole new life and she nodded off with a smile still on her face. Erik waited until he knew she was sleeping and covered her with a blanket. For the first time since that infamous night, he allowed himself thesimple pleasure of surrendering himself into a deep, peacefulsleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Phanatic:** _Quoi? I apologize. I studied German in high school. Will have to beak out the translator for that one. All the same, I am glad you are reading and are not "offended." :sigh: I just LOVE Erik._

**Silvermasque:** _Ice cream sounds awesome. Chocolate and caramel? How could you know they're my favoite! Scariness. Nice to know I am not the only ones that enjoy a little "playtime" with Erik! Thanks again!_

* * *

Chapter Six

For the first time she could remember, Christine slept peacefully. She awoke to find Erik softly kissing her lips. "My dear, we should go soon," he said softly, his voice resonating against her skin. He was playful, nipping her occasionally with his teeth. Christine's happiness spilled out with a hearty laugh. She was relieved that there was no awkwardness from their interlude the night before. Her delight produced a genuine smile from her lover.

She pouted, "You would end this now? When I am at my most vulnerable?" Christine walked her fingers up his chest. "It saddens me that you wouldn't take advantage of this opportunity," she said, frowning slightly before flashing him a seductive smile.

"Or perhaps we CAN stay here for a just few minutes longer," Erik said mischievously. He returned her sly grin and took her in his arms again. They frolicked in their love bed, exploring each other's bodies trying discovering ways to intensify their pleasure. Like two giddy young lovers embarking on a new romance, they did not care for nourishment or the world outside the room.

Erik soon grew weary again and fell asleep beside her. Though she, too, was exhausted, Christine's excitement pulsed from her veins. She did not know that she could feel like this. She was empowered by her sense of belonging and began to plan how she would escape with Erik. Pangs of guilt would fill her when her mind wandered to Raoul and Jean, but the thought of leaving her passionate lover made her sick with heartache. Her inner voice screamed for her to stay. Christine knew that Raoul would worry when she wasn't there when he returned and send out a search party for her. But at this moment, she couldn't bear the thought of returning to the home she found no joy in. She was here with Erik, the realization of a dream she had spent years fantasizing over. She kept justifying that her happiness was important, too.

Engrossed in her thoughts, Christine jumped as Erik kissed her shoulder. "I didn't mean to startle you, my dear," Erik whispered. "You let me fall asleep. How unfair of you."

"Sorry, my love, you were so exhausted. I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful." Christine ran her fingers through his hair. She had not been lying when she told him he was beautiful. Although his face was marred, his prominent features were perfect. His eyes were obviously his most striking quality. They glowed as jaded crystals, luminescent with gold vivacity. His jaw line was strong. Christine traced along it with her finger and wiggled the cleft of his chin playfully. She ran her thumb over his right brow, staring intently.

"What are you looking at, little one?" Erik asked, laughing. "You look so absorbed. Even your brow is furrowed! What are you thinking of?"

Christine began ask him what his plans were, but thought better of it and stopped. "I was . . . well, what I mean is – oh, never mind. It's silly, really." Erik smirked at her. Christine brought her knees to her chest. "What's to become of us?" She stared nervously at him. "I know that you say we'll escape, but how? Where does this go from here? I don't see it as possible." Looking at the floor, she confessed, "To be honest, I only expected to be here for a few days. No one had seen or heard from you. I thought I would reminisce while taking one last look around the building. This place is my life." Christine smiled. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. When I saw you – I had to know what I turned away from. Raoul will be back in three weeks." She met Erik's eyes. "I can't stand the thought of going back there. Not now – not when what we shared feels right." Christine felt disgusted with herself for admitting this. "I don't want to go back."

Erik held her close. "Christine," he sighed, "I would do anything for you. That should be obvious. If you are truly unhappy, you have the power to make it better. And if you decide that your happiness lies with me, well, nothing would please me more than to have you here by my side forever." Erik leaned in and kissed her forehead. "We will find someplace to hide. Somewhere where they can't find us." He held his hands up. "This is the only place I know. I had nowhere else to go. I didn't belong to anything. But," Erik interjected, "If you are earnest, I have no fear whilst you are near me. We will find a way. I promise I will find a way."

Christine placed her head on his chest. "Oh, Erik." She faced him and asked, "You would do this for me?"

"Of course." He kissed her. "Of course. Now, come, let's hurry. We have to get going." He wrapped a blanket around himself as he retrieved his clothing. "Unfortunately, we'll have to get past _her_ to leave. And, believe me, it will be no easy feat."

Christine laughed. "Meg? With you here, how will she stand a chance? You know this opera house better than anyone!" exclaimed Christine.

"I don't think you should underestimate the depth of her madness. Though she may be small, she is more powerful than she seems." Slipping his pants on, he continued, "I have told you already, Christine. I am not the same man I once was. My strength is not what it used to be.

"After that night I left this place in the hopes to start a new life somewhere else, to find a way to repent for my sins." Erik strapped his boots on. "I didn't know how hard it would be. Luckily, I found a church that took me in without question. The priest there led me to a path of salvation. Father Rapier showed me mercy and forgiveness. He helped me see the errors in my way. Most importantly, he showed me how to forgive myself.

He found me a job digging graves for the cemetery on the church grounds. I've never had so much space. I tried to keep to myself, but it was inevitable that I would have to make contact with others – nuns, congregates. It became too much to bear. There were too many people that asked too many questions. I couldn't," he paused, "Adjust." He pulled his shirt over him. "I only lasted a few more months before I decided to return. Luckily, the theater house was abandoned." Looking at Christine, he said. "Our story lives in infamy, my dear." There was a slight smile on Erik's face. "I guess the tales of my treachery kept everyone away. I never knew how powerful my hold was over this town." He collected Christine's clothing and returned it to her.

"I only leave here some nights to pick up food, firewood, and oil that Father Rapier gathers for me. All he asks is that I continue making donations to the church. It is a small price to pay. I suspect he knows that I am staying here. I occasionally find small novelties right outside the passage I use to get outside.

"I lived here for two years in solace. One morning I arose from my chamber to the sound of feet above the stage. 'They must have sold this place to a new owner,' I thought to myself. I quickly collected some necessary supplies and made it to this room. My lair was now widely known and easily accessible. Later that night, I left to see if anyone was still remaining. That's when I found her."

"Meg?"

"You would not have recognized her. She had grown thin. Her eyes were sunken into her head. She was in my lair. It was depraved. She found my collection of old food scraps and gorged herself on them. I didn't want to bother her. She seemed so relieved to be here. I understood where she was coming from. This place never leaves you, right?" Erik smiled at Christine.

"I had never seen anything like it. Day after day she visited each room, learning secrets of the building's structure. I kept to myself. I didn't want to face anyone, so I lived in seclusion in this room. I thought she would leave eventually. She had a routine, so I knew when she fell asleep so that I could go find something to eat. One day I found her on the stage when she was normally asleep. She had found my music box. It was like watching a child play with a brand new toy. She was enthralled by it. I was taken back, however, when she pulled my mask from her vest, placed it on her own face and began to dance to the music.

"Everyday she slept less and less and started talking to people who weren't there. At first it was her mother. Then you. I became her everlasting obsession. I would hear her call my name and hear her having conversations with me when I wasn't there. She started pulling out old costumes and props to give impromptu performances to an empty audience. As I was watched her one day, I mistakenly placed myself in her line of vision. I have been hiding from her for two months now. When I tried leaving a week ago, I discovered that she set traps and lures along my hidden passage. Christine, I'm afraid that there might not be a safe way out of here." Erik walked to Christine and took hold of her hands. "I have seen her at the height of one of her episodes. If she is looking for you, she will not stop until she gets what she's after. We need to get you out as soon as possible."

"I don't know what could have happened to make her like this. As children, she was so sweet and demure, the epitome of protocol and refinement," Christine said, puzzled. "I would never have imagined she would turn out this way. Does her mother know where she is?"

"I do not think Madame Giry would have waited this long. She would have come back for her by now."

He placed his cloak around him. Gathering two pieces of stale bread, he offered one to Christine. "You ate the last of my food supply. This is all I have left. I know you are used to finer foods by now. I am sorry that this is all I have to offer you." She reluctantly took it. "It will help keep up your strength. Hopefully I will be able to confiscate some more later." He searched around the room for anything he might have missed. "Are you ready, my love?" Christine nodded and took his hand.

Erik pushed in three protruding stones. The wall snapped open. He made sure that Meg was no where to be found before shutting the door again. They rapidly started back down into the depths of the cavern. Erik was traveling fast, and Christine found it hard to keep up to his pace. "Follow me and stay close," Erik whispered. "We have to move quickly if we hope to avoid her." Christine wrapped her arm around his. Fear came over Christine again as she remembered the cold stares her friend have given her. She knew if Meg found her, she would not let her escape with her life.

Erik spread his back to the wall as closely as possible. He began sliding across the perimeter and instructed Christine to do the same. She was not as diligent as he was and her feet grazed the huge stones that made up the walkway. Erik whisked Christine back from stepping directly on them. "Better not to touch anything that might give. She could have implanted a door or trap." Erik said softly. "You wouldn't want to end up like this?" he joked pointing to his face.

She stopped him. "Why do you say such cruel things about yourself?"

"It's the way of the world, Christine. I say it so others won't have to. Forgive, I have forgotten the company I am keeping." He smiled back at her. "It is nice to know that not everyone sees me as a monster. We are wasting time again. Come on, we have to hurry." Erik pulled Christine closer to him. They made their way to a narrow passageway.

Erik and Christine squeezed their way down the hallway. The stone was wet with mildew and Christine started to gag from the stench. Her coughing echoed loudly.

Erik placed his hand over her mouth to suppress the noise. It was too late. "Come out, come out where ever you are!" A piercing voice echoed, not far from them. "I knew you couldn't escape me!" Erik pulled Christine down the passage as fast as he could.

As he made it through, he shouted at Christine, "There is a room at the end of this that will lead outside, to the stables. Come on, run, but careful!" He grabbed her hand and started bolting to the door. Christine was not careful enough. She stepped on a stone that sunk into the floor.

"Oh no! Erik!" Christine pointed to her feet. They tried to move out of the way but the heavy net was too large and it landed on top of them causing them to crash to the floor. It snapped, wrapping around them and pulled them up. They were suspended like two rabbits tied in a sack. "What have I done?" Christine lamented. "Oh, Erik, I'm sorry!" Erik continued to pull on the cords trying to free themselves.

"It's no use. You can't escape!" Meg cried out from the shadows. As she emerged, she chastised her prey, "You stupid, silly girl! Did you . . ." She stopped suddenly , her eyes wide. "It's you," she said looking at Erik. "You are here. With her!" She circled them. "She deserts you and you come to aid her escape!"

"Leave her alone! She has done nothing to harm you! Set her free!" Erik cried out defiantly. "Take me instead. It is me you're after."

"As enticing as that offer sounds, my love, I'm afraid I'll have to pass. You see, if I let her go, she would learn nothing from this. She needs to be taught a lesson."

"Please, I am begging you, let her go," pleaded Erik.

"Oh, you poor creature. You think that she has come back to save you? Do you think that you will leave here and start a new life together with her?" Meg laughed viciously. "Certainly you do not think that you two would ride off into the sunset and live among the rest of us, undetected. Normal, even. What kind of life can you offer to someone like her?"

"Stop it!" Christine cried out at her.

Not listening, Meg continued to speak to Erik, "She has been spoiled with her wealth and privilege. Society balls, galas, holidays around the world. How can you compete? It's not like she would hold her head up proudly with you at her side, showing you off for the world to see. Do you think she would give all that up for you? More importantly, do you honestly think she will leave her distinguished husband and child just to be with you?" Meg jeered at Erik.

"Child?" Erik asked in disbelief. He turned to Christine. Christine could only stare wide-eyed at Erik as he asked fiercely, "Is what she saying true! You didn't say anything about a child . . ."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Phanatic:** _Just as sweet and charming as ever . . ._

**Han Solo666:** _I live for drama. Not by choice most days. But I think that's all of us . . ._

**Pertie:** _I know my story isn't everyone's cuppa tea. Thanks for taking time to read it. Feedback is always awesome . . ._

* * *

Chapter Seven

"Why are you doing this to me, Meg?" Christine cried out.

"What child?" Erik barked at Christine. After a few minutes of silence he screamed again, "Dammit, Christine! What child!"

Meg took the liberty of answering for her. Giggling, she replied, "A little boy. Probably two or three now." She loathingly rolled her eyes at Christine, "The apple of his family's eye, I'm sure."

"But how could you know –" Christine began.

"Oh Christine! You truly are daft sometimes. Did you think that de Chagny's wouldn't have mentioned the birth of Raoul's only son, their only grandchild, to high society? Christine, it was on the front page of the society paper!" Meg's face was indignant as she scoffed. "In your elite inner circle, anyone who so much as sneezes suddenly becomes front page news that they are dying of pneumonia. Besides, Paris is still quite obsessed with you. Both of you."

Erik stared blankly in front of him. More to himself, he said, "How could she not even mention it? Not once. I didn't even realize. How could I? She would have just left h - " Their bodies were pressed together, tangled in the webbing. Almost as though the mere touch of her skin was beastly, he struggled to get out again. "I would never have known. You would have me play your fool. Christine, why? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't, Erik. It wouldn't change the fact that I love you," Christine said, much to the annoyance of Meg. "Would it make me want to go back? I'm sorry, but no. I told you! You don't know what it was like for me out there!" Christine started whimpering again. "Maybe it makes me a bad mother, but - "

"Yes! Yes it does!" Erik interrupted. "And stop crying! Christine, how could you! You would just leave him? Your own child! You should be ashamed of yourself!" Erik screamed in desperation.

"Oooo . . . a lover's quarrel." Meg cooed in mock delight. "Well, forgive me if I seem disenchanted with all this. I just don't care. Everything in your life is perilous, Christine." Meg let the words drop from her tongue. "_Maybe it makes me a bad mother, _" Meg mocked with ridicule. "Forgive me if I don't allow you the opportunity to shower yourself with more sympathy." She went to the wall that held the rope net Christine and Erik were trapped in. She placed her hand on a pulley wheel. "See, Erik, she is a spoiled, selfish shell of a human being. To abandon her own young," she clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Obsessed with her fame and fortune. Her wants and desires. It's disgusting." Reproachfully, she looked at Erik, "It doesn't have to be this way for you. You don't have to make the same mistake twice.

"You can change your mind still. You can make the right choice. You have the power to fulfill the promise you made to my mother. Make me your Empress," Meg implored.

"If I do, will you release her?" Erik asked.

"No, Erik!" Christine cried out.

Talking over her, Erik asked again, "Will you release her?"

"Oh, come now. Why would I do a silly thing like that! This is to save your own life." Meg trillingly laughed. "So say you come with me. Let the madness stop here for you."

Erik only glowered in silence. Meg chuckled softly to herself, "Choose what you want, then. I gave you the opportunity."

Cranking the metal wheel, she hoisted them until they were completely suspended in the air. Christine and Erik drew closer together and collapsed on each other, fighting to find space. The thick, coiled rope dug into their flesh. "See, my darlings, now you really can have each other forever. In a few short weeks, days even, madness or hunger will overcome you and you'll both die, somehow or another." She started to leave.

His arm extended through the holes, reaching out to her. "Please . . . Meg, don't do this. You don't have to. You are better than this," he pleaded.

Meg ran below him. Looking up with forlorn eyes, she whispered, "I know, my love. You want to save her. But you see, I can't risk letting her out again. She ruined our lives and countless others. Look at what she would have done to her own son! She's deceitful, conniving, and," Meg rolled her eyes at Christine, "A whore." She looked back at Erik, "I would have been dutiful. You even promised my mother that I would be glorious. But you chose her." Her voice cracked, "You could have picked anyone. We all would have leapt at the opportunity. That was your choice, my love." A single tear fell down her rosy cheek. "And, here, now, you chose her again. At least be man enough to hold to it." Meg vanished into the shadows of the dark room.

Christine did not know how much time had passed before Erik finally spoke to her. "You should have told me. Why didn't you tell me, Christine? That – that changes everything."

"But why, Erik? You said yourself that you would do anything for me. Why would it change everything? You believed me when I said that I was miserable. Raoul . . ." but Erik interrupted her.

"Has Raoul ever hurt you or your child!" Erik barked at her. "Does he galavant town with various women forsaking his duties at home!" When Christine didn't answer, Erik continued, "He must be a good man to have dealt with this nonsense so far. Honestly, Christine, you made me think that you were a prisoner in that house. That he was mistreating you somehow. You made it seem as though there was no love or comfort for you there - that your life had no real meaning."

Weeping, Christine replied, "But it doesn't. Jean -"

"Jean? Your son. The one who has no meaning to your life. That son?"

Now sheepish, Christine answered meekly, "Yes, my son. I'm sorry, Erik. I should have told you. But," she tugged the ropes that bound them, "It doesn't matter now, does it?"

"I will not let you die here. Not like this." Erik yanked at the rope, "We'll get out. I promise. I just need to figure out how." Surveying how the pulley was holding them up, Erik instructed Christine, "We need to see if we can climb out. If we utilize our body weight to our advantage, I think there is a way that I can release the tension of the rope so that we could drop to the floor, hopefully, unnoticed." He started fidgeting swinging the two of them. "If this doesn't work I might have to leave you here while I climb out and drop you down from the crank. But, come, let's try to sway this. There is a hook up there that I could use as leverage." They furiously rocked from side to side, but the hook was always just out of Erik's grasp. He finally told Christine to stop.

Using his upper body strength, he was able to get into a standing position. Straining, he called to Christine, "Come on, I need you up here. If we pull on each side we can open a hole to so that I can slip out." Christine tried to pull herself up as Erik did.

"Erik I can't, there's not enough room," Christine lamented.

"Come on, try at least. You can do this. It's the only way." Taking a deep breath in she managed to get up. The bag began to swing wildly again. Erik instructed her, "Now shift your weight to your back. Yes, like that." Erik pulled himself back and a small hole opened itself up. He forced his right hand into the hole. "Now, stay there." Using his feet as leverage and keep the tension, he was able to fit both of his arms through. Using much effort and wiggling, he slowly squeezed himself through the hole. Looking at Christine from the top he whispered, "Sit tight. I'll get down and lower you. Just try not to move. You could make me fall and then I would be of no use to anyone." Erik pulled himself up the rope to the pulley. With his feet and hands, he slowly slid down to the hoisting mechanism. When his feet touched the floor, he looked back up to Christine, "See, there is always a way. Give me one moment. I'll have you down. We are just outside the door. She won't even know we've escaped."

Christine saw a figure move in the darkness. Staring blankly trying to find words, she finally shouted, "Erik, no, behind you!"

Erik quickly turned to see what was behind him and was met with a metal bar in the face. Falling to the ground unconscious, Meg whispered to him, "Forgive me. I knew you could do it." She smiled at him as she stroked his face. "I couldn't let her hurt you like that again. You'll see. It's better this way."

"Meg! Stop!" Christine wailed from her cage as she saw Meg dragging Erik's body. "No! Please, let him go!"

"I told you before, Christine." She smiled sweetly. "He belongs to me now . . ."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

_Author's Note: I apologize in the delay of updating. Work coupled with HP:HBP kinda took up a lot of my time. Look for Chapter Nine to up up very soon! Thanks foryour patience!_

* * *

**Phanatic:** _You rock_.

**Twinkle:** _Thanks for reading! So glad you are liking it!_

* * *

Chapter Eight

It was as though his head had been submerged in water. Erik heard what sounded like muffled noises in the distance. As he opened his eyes, all he could see were blurs of color. Trying to get up caused his head to pound even stronger and harder. He resorted himself to wait until his head cleared. The longer he focused, his environment became clearer. The music, of course, was the first thing he recognized. To his left, he saw his music box playing. Erik realized he was lying on his bed in the caverns of the opera house. The grandiose black veil that once surrounded the bed was now torn and weathered with age and neglect. Bearing through the pain, Erik tried once again to sit up. He discovered that his wrists and ankles were shackled with heavy iron cuffs. They were bound so tightly that he could not lift them higher than a few centimeters.

He saw her emerge. A small, dainty hand slipped through the folds of the curtains. Meg glided into the bedchamber and caressed her way next to Erik's body. She whispered cheerfully, "I've been waiting so long for you to wake up from your little nap." Propping herself up with her elbow she stroked the side of Erik's face with her other hand. She raised her hand to his forehead and tenderly fingered over his large, swollen bump. The pain was immense and Erik flinched and cried out as she touched it. "That must hurt, my love, I know." She reached over to a table next to the bed. Dipping a handkerchief in a basin of water, Meg began to tend to the wound. She paused and softly whispered, "I'm sorry, but you must understand. I had to do it." She frowned as she stared into his eyes. "She didn't come here to save you. She was here for her own benefit. You would've done anything to save her, and she would have left you in the end. I had to stop her."

"Meg, she will die if you lea - " Erik started.

She placed her finger over his lips, "Shhhh. You're in shock now. It will take time, but you will understand why it needed to be done." The incessant tinkling from the music box finally stopped. She crawled over to it and gingerly rubbed the top of the monkey's head. "This has brought me more joy than you will ever know." She smiled to herself before acknowledging their surroundings. "You left all this here. When I came back, it was as though you had never left. It seemed as though nothing had changed – that everything could still be as it was.

"For the first few days I was content to just rest here. When I regained some of my strength, I started exploring the building one room at a time noticing small, hidden triggers and traps that I never noticed as a child. I had so much fun discovering all of your secrets. It was like a mystery puzzle you left behind for me to solve." She turned back to him. "See? See how I kept it all for you. I knew you would come back."

Meg reached behind the music box and produced a small, silver tray full of fruits and cheeses. "You look famished." She straddled his waist and leaned into his chest. Erik was uncomfortable with the situation. He tensed up. Meg took no notice of his apprehension. Her hot breath bathed his neck as she whispered, "I thought you might want something to eat." She plucked a plump, purple grape from its vine. Tracing it around his mouth, she was dismayed at his reluctance to eat. "Please, you'll need your strength. I would unchain you, but you might be able to overpower me." She offered it to him again. "It's safe, I promise." Erik grudgingly opened his mouth and she delicately placed the grape on his tongue. "I wasn't always like this, you know." Meg continued to feed him.

"That night we came to look for you and Christine was one of the longest nights of my life. I found the mask you left behind. The entire search party gazed around for what seemed like hours. We were all amazed at the extravagance we found here. My mother quickly ushered me out when she discovered that you had already left. When she sealed the passageway from the dressing room, I thought that was the end. We didn't know at the time that Christine had escaped with Raoul. The way she ran away . . . There were rumors that she would never return, that she was dead, but I never believed them. You wouldn't have harmed her in any way.

"How could she have run away from this? This was our livelihood. It's what we lived for. She loved it here. I thought she loved me. For months we awaited her return, my mother and me. Months! And to find out that she was - " She rammed a piece of cheese into Erik's mouth. When he started choking, she apologized, "I'm sorry!" Laughing, she said, "I am getting caught up in my own story." Daintily, she resumed feeding him. "Living here my whole life made it difficult to exist out there. So I came back to the only place I knew."

"Oh no! You've made a mess of yourself," Meg cooed. "Don't worry," she whispered, "I'll clean you up." Meg proceeded to lick the juice that had spilled onto his face and neck. Breathing hard, she returned to his face and ran her moist tongue across his lips. Erik remained tight and withdrawn. Disappointed, Meg pouted. "It's not fair. I know she must have seduced you into her helping her. I have been your faithful servant these past two years, and, still, I am not worthy of your affection. Why should you remain devoted to her?"

"You don't understand, Meg," Erik quickly said. "This isn't right. Had I known that Christine - "

"And yet now you know the truth and still deny me," Meg retorted.

"My obsessive love for Christine is just that – an obsession. It's an old habit that is too familiar to me. I thought I would be alone, never knowing the happiness of companionship. She tempted me. Shamefully, I took advantage of my good fortune before it left again. I was wrong in doing so. I was weak." Seeing that her anger was building, Erik continued, "Meg, I am not the same man I once was. I am not proud of the things I have done. Living the way I did didn't give me any power or gratification. It only made me more isolated and depraved. Christine was the first one who showed me what I had actually become . . . a monster. I will be forever grateful for leading me to the tright path. It's not too late for you, though. You can save her - "

"Silence!" Meg screamed as she leapt off him. Clapping her hands over her ears, she started sobbing to herself. "It's never fair. They will always choose her." Erik saw her pacing around the room. "That is why," she continued talking with herself, "she should die. She's the monster now. She had her change to make it right. She didn't!" With gusto, she shouted at Erik, "It's her fault! She did this to herself! She doesn't deserve to live! If people are not catering to her every whim she abandons them - even her own husband and son! What kind of person would do that?"

"You're right, Meg." Erik answered. "She doesn't realize how her actions affect other people. But that doesn't make her a monster. She is confused. Other people have taken it upon themselves to take care of her. Christine has always had someone there to show her the way. She doesn't know how to take responsibility for her own actions. That is not something that she deserves to be murdered for, Meg. Let her go. Believe me when I say it's not worth it. You will regret it, if not tomorrow, then someday."

Meg entered the enclosed bed. "Erik, I want to make you happy. I do." She began to laden his chest with kisses. "I want us to be together. I want to show you that I can make you happy, too. But," she looked up into his eyes, "I know that as long as she lives, she will always be in the way. Don't you see? I am doing this not just for me, but for you as well." She sat up. "Choose me, Erik. Let me show you what love can be. I promise that I will make you happy."

Erik desperately whispered, "Meg. It's not that - "

Faced with rejection again, Meg screamed, "Enough!" as she slapped Erik in the face. "I'm am tired of playing these games with you!"

Erik growled, "You had better remember who you are speaking to. I would be careful."

Immediately, she was horror-struck. "I'm sorry. But can you see what she has done to me? Do you see the life I am resorted to live?" Meg wept quietly. A small tear fell down her face, landing on Erik's chest. "Perhaps I have gone crazy. For months I thought I was the only one here. That I would live and die here alone." Her smile was soft. Hesitating for a moment, she asked, "I saw you that night, didn't I? That night you saw me dancing. I thought to myself that I had finally gone insane to think I had seen someone in the rafters. But you were really there, weren't you?"

"Yes," Erik sighed empathically. "I was there." Seeing how happy she was at his acknowledgment of her, he laughed briefly. "If not for the bizarre circumstances, I would have thought you were beautiful, really. You reminded me so much of your mother."

Meg broke down, sobbing into Erik's chest. "I have been so alone. You have no idea how it feels to have someone real to talk to."

"I might have a better idea than you think, my dear," Erik whispered to her. He smiled at her softly. "After all, I have been lonely my whole life. I know the pain of having no one. Please," he indicated his hands, "Is this really necessary?"

"I have already told you before, Erik. I cannot risk you escaping again. Until you truly understand why I am doing this, I will have to keep you here. I cannot allow her to manipulate me, or you again!" Meg furiously beat the bed with her fists. "I trusted her. You trusted her. My mother trusted her. All of France trusted her! And what does look at what she as become! A deceitful, shameless whore!" Meg's breathing was hard and fast. "And, still, you love her! Unconditionally."

Erik paused before answering, "It is difficult, Meg. I will always love her." Fearing her retaliation, he quickly added, "But I lusted for her in the beginning. I cannot, in good faith, lust for her anymore. I thought it was love in her heart for me that brought her back. My desire was stifled once I discovered – the truth." Erik stopped. "Christine is my crowning glory, my greatest achievement. Yes, I would have left here with her, but it was based on her lies. And, yes, deceit." Erik looked empathetically at Meg. "I was a different man then. I was hungry with my own power and I had an insatiable thirst for her. She consumed my thoughts, my very being. I preyed upon her naivety. I was wrong in doing so. Don't go down the same path, masking it under the guise of righteousness. You are better than this." Meg was sullen after his speech. "Let me go. We can escape from this place. We can go back to your mother and pretend that none of this ever happened. Let me take you back to her."

Meg tried to suppress her grin. "I have been waiting so long for this moment. We are alike, you and I, Erik. Both rejected by the world outside, seeking solace in this opera house. Don't you see? We are meant to be with each other," she intertwined her fingers into his, "And will have the rest of our lives to spend in companionship." She gently caressed his face and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. "I will prove my devotion to you. I will make you happy, Erik, I promise." She rose excitedly, clapping her hands. "Mother will be so happy to know that you are here safe. She's been so worried for you. Imagine how happy she'll be for us, now that we have found each other?" She began to kiss him feverishly. Erik pulled his head back sharply further into the bed.

"Meg, you are misunderstanding my intentions here." Erik stumbled over his words.

"No more talking. Now I will prove to you how much I love you." Meg ripped the bottom hem off her dress. Giddy, she began to wrap the cloth around Erik's mouth as he tried to protest. "I have waited long enough for you. I have been the only one who has ever loved you unconditionally. We will be together." She began to unbutton the top of her chemise. Stopping suddenly, she exclaimed, "We need music!" Meg laughed jubilantly to herself. She crawled to the music box and began to wind it. As it started chiming its familiar tune, she returned to her prey.

Using her tongue, she began to trace it along Erik's body. He started bucking for her to stop her impassioned deliria. Her sensual kisses traveled further down his body. Her hands groped along his chest to his stomach. Meg giggled as she started to undo his trousers, "See? Even if you wanted to stop, you couldn't. I can feel your desire burning inside, wanting to be released." She grabbed the string that encased his manhood, the music still clanging nearby. "You know you want this. You want me. You need me. Stop fighting it, my love."

Meg couldn't have heard it.

"How dare you?" a voice called from behind her. As Meg turned, she saw Christine's bloody fist for a brief moment before it collided with her face.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Phanatic:** _What more can you say about a loyal fan?_

**lilymunster:** _They say that every character an author writes about is an extentsion of themselves. In this case, I hope not . . . :) Thanks for reading!_

**Gi Xian:** _I thought the same thing after writing it. Welcome to my strange world. Thanks!_

**phantomadark:** _You flatter me too much. It is nice to know that people are enjoying my writing. An author could hope for nothing more . . ._

* * *

Chapter Nine 

Christine's eyes were glazed over. Her heavy breathing and loathsome stares were the first indications that her anger spilt past her breaking point. Christine impaled Meg. After diving at her and tumbling off the bed, Christine showed no restraint dealing full force punches to Meg's face. Meg reached up and was able to grab Christine's hair. Yanking on it, Meg pulled Christine off of her, got up and began to drag Christine across the room. "You never learn do you?" Meg cried out. "You ruined an absolutely perfect moment."

Christine didn't waste any of her limited energy trying to engage in an argument. She stopped her by hitting Meg's ankle. After Meg fell, they continued to roll along the floor assaulting each other with elbows, knees and feet. Meg wiggled herself away and continued taunting her. "Couldn't stand the thought of him wanting to be with another! You cannot beat me this time!" Meg lunged at her, knocking Christine to the floor. Meg grabbed her shoulders and forcefully slammed Christine's head into the ground, twice. After the second time, Christine was too dazed to stop the vicious strike Meg impaled on her cheek. Christine's body relaxed reluctantly. Meg's sinister laugh rang through the cavern. "I told you. You are too weak. You've always been." Meg got up and staggered closer to the bed Erik was resting on. Her breathing was hard. Meg pulled a small dagger from the cuff of her right boot. "I had hoped it wouldn't come down to this, but since you insist." She started advancing towards Christine, lying helplessly on the floor. "A quick death, though most unsatisfying to me, will suffice. Let's end this."

Something rumbled from within and Christine found herself rising slowly. Meg charged, but Christine dodged her attack. As Meg passed, Christine attacked from behind, throwing the knife across the room. Christine pushed Meg's face into the ground. Meg squirmed onto her back, but Christine was ready for her. Using her knees, Christine pinned Meg's shoulders to the floor. She used all of her strength hitting Meg in the face. Meg tried to stop her, but found her efforts to be fruitless. While Meg screamed in agony, Christine began wailing harder and faster. Finally, Meg's body had become flaccid. Her eyes rolled back into her head. It was only until Erik screamed at her that Christine stopped her attack.

"Shhtuuuuoffff!" Erik muffled cry emanated from the bed. Startled, Christine halted her fist mid-swing. Her body softened when she caught his eyes. Staring down at Meg's bloodied face, Christine began to sob hysterically, throwing her face into her hands. Christine pulled herself from Meg's limp body. Noticing a small, thin chain around Meg's neck, Christine lifted it from where it had been tucked in her bosom. A heavy, iron key dangled from the end. She pulled tightly, breaking the chain off. Limping over to Erik, she continued to weep quietly.

Christine climbed onto the bed and unlocked each cuff. She untied his gag. Erik rose slowly and began to straighten himself out. Christine quickly turned her back and attended to her small friend. Her tears fell on Meg's face. Using Erik's gag, Christine started to clean Meg off. "I'm so sorry, Meg," she whispered. Erik came to her side and lifted Meg off the floor. He placed her gently in the bed, restraining her left ankle with one of the iron cuffs. He put the key into his pocket.

Erik and Christine sat for a moment staring at her body. "I don't see her breathing, Erik," Christine whispered. "What have I done?" She continued to clean Meg's face. "When I saw what she was doing to you . . . I - I don't know what came over me. I've never felt that angry before in my life."

Erik bent down to examine Meg. He placed his hand beneath her nose. Leaning "She is breathing. Don't worry. She isn't dead, little one." Erik leaned forward and felt around Meg's neck. "Her heart is still beating," He fingered the bones in her face, "And, miraculously, nothing is broken."

Christine let a huge breath out. "Good." She buried her face into his shoulder. "I would have killed her if you hadn't stopped me. I don't know what I would have done if that had happened. I never intended it to get to this. When I saw her pull that dagger out, something happened inside of me. She would have killed me if I didn't stop her, " Christine choked.

The two of them sat in silence. The ripples from the lake echoed in the cavern walls. After a moment, Erik asked, "How - how did you get out?"

Her hands were still covered in blood, some of it hers, and some of it belonged to Meg. As she stared at them she told Erik, "Love makes you do things you never thought possible." A small, desperate chuckle escaped from her throat. "When she was dragging you away, a tiny voice inside of me said, 'It's not supposed to end this way.' So I did exactly what you did and was able to fit my hand through the opening. Then I was able to fit my head, my shoulders, and finally, my legs. I tried sliding down the rope like you did, but became stuck somewhere in the middle. My grip wasn't strong enough." Christine lifted her skirt. "I think I might have hurt my leg when I fell." Erik placed his hands on her swollen knee. Christine bit her lip from the pain. "I'll be all right, though."

She looked back at Meg and then turned to Erik. Looking down, she told him softly, "I didn't think she was capable of something like that." She started into her hands. "I never thought I could do something like that. Least of all to someone I love." She sighed, "Meg may not have known it, but it hurt me everyday to have left her like that. I didn't realize how much it hurt her, too." Nervously, she twiddled her fingers together. "I don't know if there is a way to fix this." Christine looked back on Erik's face. She caressed the side of his cheek. "Please tell me there is a way for us to be together. I cannot imagine life without you."

Erik grasped her hand tenderly. "Christine," his jade eyes penetrated hers, "There would be nothing I would want more in the world than to be by your side. Every day for the past three years, I had hoped that one day you would come back to me. I will always love you." He placed her hand back into her lap. "You have more important obligations now. You have a family now. This isn't just about what you want anymore. Your son needs you."

"But," Christine began.

"I will help you out," Erik interrupted. "Father Rapier will help you heal. He would be thrilled to have you, I'm sure. He was also a fan of the theater." Christine silently nodded, saddened, but thankful for his help. She gathered their cloaks and handed Erik his.

Erik rose from the bed. He retrieved a clean basin of water and placed it next to Meg. The food tray was still in grasp if Meg woke before his return. An urn would have to serve as a makeshift latrine. Turning from her, he said, "I will leave you at the convent. It is not far from here. Come, let's go." Christine tried to take his hand, but Erik shrugged her off. Slightly hurt, Christine held back as Erik made his way to the entrance of the lair. She stared back at the music box at the side of the bed. She ran her finger over the metal rim of the cymbal. She wanted something of his to take back to her collection. Gently, she picked it up. Carrying it out, Erik called back to her, "Leave it, Christine. Do you really need that to remember me by?"

As she reluctantly placed the music box back down, she gazed back down on her friend. Christine caressed Meg's forehead. She leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I'm more sorry than you'll ever know. I never meant to hurt you. I hope someday that you will find it in your heart to forgive me. Get better soon. You deserve better than this." Christine kissed her friend again and rose to meet with Erik.

They made their way back to the narrow passageway out. Christine was careful to follow Erik's exact steps for fear of triggering another trap. Seeing the net still hoisted in the air caused the little hairs on her arms to stand on end. She knew how lucky she was to walk away from all of this madness.

The light blinded them as Erik and Christine opened the door. The air outside was crisp and clean. She basked in the warm sun that made the snow on the courtyard sparkle and shimmer. She rose and blinked her way into the daylight. In the darkness of the opera house, Christine had lost track of time. Now aware, she started panicking, wondering how much time she had before Francois would return to take her back to Champigny. Self-conscious of her ragged appearance, she smoothed her dress and hair. Erik took one a moment to inspect Christine. Her hair was a ratty mess. Blood had dried into the crevices of her hands and face. It was also splattered on her dress. Erik walked back to her and helped her cover all of this with her cloak. As he placed the hood over her head, his hands stopped. He slowly stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. They enjoyed their moment in silence.

Erik was quick to return to the task at hand. The church was nearly a kilometer away. Their only difficultly would be to walk through Paris as undetected as possible. Walking through the streets Christine argued, "The hotel is closer. I will rest there. It will be easier."

Erik pulled her close, "You are more wounded than you think. Besides, I think you could benefit from a priest's counsel." He wrapped his arm around her. "You will survive this. I will not let you fail."

Father Rapier almost seemed to know that Erik would be coming. He panicked, though when he saw the woman Erik brought with him. Erik waved knowing that he was recognized. Father Rapier quickly ushered the two of them into the church. He swiftly escorted them into this chamber. "Erik, what is all of this? I was worried. I hadn't seen you in over a week. The food I left was untouched. I feared the worst!" Father Rapier reprimandedErik as though he was his own child. "I nearly went in there after you!You can't do this to an old my, my son. My heart is not as strong as it was ten years ago. Still, I am glad to see that you arealive. But your head! You should have one of the nurses here look after it." Erik shook his head, but steered Father Rapier's attention to Christine. "Very well. Always a stubborn one. I suppose there's no changing that. And who might this be?" Father Rapier asked Christine, who still had her face covered.

"An old friend from my past who has come to haunt me," Erik said when Christine didn't answer. "She needs your help, though she may not know it now"

"She does, does she?" the priest asked inquisitively. "Well, come here then, child." Christine solemnly obeyed. He removed her coverings. As soon as he saw who she was, he exclaimed, "Good heavens!" He turned to Erik, "Is this?" When Erik softly nodded, Father Rapier gruffly said, "I see. Well then. Hmmph," he cleared his throat. "Well, yes, this isn't awkward at all, is it?" He began laughing nervously. When no one else laughed, he cleared his throat again and continued, "My dear, you have come to the right place. We have a way of being 'discretionary.' You look a terrible mess! Let's go over the damage."

After her brief examination, Father Rapier instructed her to go the Nunnery to have the nuns draw her a warm salt bath. "It will help the soreness," he said, winking at her. "We'll have you cleaned up and ready to go in a few days time."

"Thank you, your grace. But please, Father, can you tell me what day is it?" Christine asked nervously.

"Why, I believe it's Tuesday," the priest cheerfully replied. Seeing her relief, he continued, "Well then, I'll leave you two alone to say your goodbyes. I shall see you soon, milady. Erik," he gestured gently bowing before he shut the door behind him.

The silence was deafening. "Thank you, Erik," Christine softly said. Erik simply shook his head and began to walk towards the door. "Wait, Erik, don't leave! Not like this." He stopped, still facing the door. "We could escape - all of us," Christine interjected. "You, Jean and me. We could start a new life as a new family."

"No, Christine,we couldn't." Erik stood up. "Is Raoul a good father? Does he treat your son well? Does he treat you well?" When she nodded, he sighed. "How could you do that to him? It isn't fair of you to strip away from the family he loves. He has done nothing but love you, Christine. I knew he would take care of you. That's why I let you escape that night. If I had the smallest doubt that he would treat you wrongly, he would not have left with his life."

Christine gazed blankly into the air. "But what if I made the wrong choice, Erik? What if we were supposed to be together? Shouldn't I be able to correct my mistake? You said you would do anything for me." She looked at him directly. Pleading, she asked, "Why not this?"

"Your child needs his father." Erik answered back empathetically. "Raoul does not deserve this from you. He would wonder everyday for the rest of his life what he did to make you leave him; even if it was never his fault to begin with. Believe me, the pain of it hurts more than I can say. You are not a child anymore, Christine. You are a wife and mother now. Your responsibility is to their needs and wants, not your own. I will have no part of taking you away from them. You chose Raoul, Christine. You made your choice."

"Please, Erik. Don't let this end here." Christine tried to kiss him, but Erik remained steadfast and stoic. Ignoring her attempts, he walked away,using all his strength not to turn around and take back the woman he so desperately loves.

After shutting the door, Erik placed his hand on the wall between him and Christine. His heart was beating rapidly. His breathing was hoarse. Father Rapier stood nearby, ready to console Erik. But Erik could only look loathingly at the door that stood before him. Before Father Rapier could impart a few words to him, Erik stormed out of the cathedral. He began sprinting back to the opera house. Though he tried to stop, he could feel the water welling in his eyes. Entering the building, he fell to his knees. His wails echoed in the empty hallway. "Why! Why do this to me now! Why did you come back to me! Why couldn't you just let me die without ever knowing - " He pounded the ground with all of his might. "It's not fair!" He whispered, "It's not fair." Erik buried his face in his hands. He was gasping for breath. "I love you, Christine. I'm sorry." His tears splashed onto the cold, stone floor. "I'm sorry."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Phanatic:** _Thanks! Your comments make my day!_

**Gi Xian:** _You'll have to fight me for him! Just kidding . . . **or am I?** Muah aha ha ha ha_

**Twinkle22:** _Thanks for the continued support. What can I say? I love tragedies!_

* * *

Chapter Ten

The nuns were very accommodating. Christine knew she was in good hands. Father Rapier was right, a warm salt bath took away most of her pain and fatigue. Washing away all the blood, sweat and grime, she considered herself lucky for escaping that unspeakable place with her life. If Erik had not been there she knew, in her heart, she would be dead by now. Meg's depravity had consumed her. Christine could only hope that Erik would be able to help her friend. Growing up, they were like sisters. Meg would have given her anything. Christine acknowledged to herself that she truly was a selfish creature who hoarded things to herself. It was only after her success on stage that she even admitted to Meg that she had been receiving lessons. A true friend, she reasoned, would have shared what she had been taught. Meg had a right to be angry with her.

The ointment they used to dress her wounds burned ferociously. The pain, Christine knew, was a small price to pay. She was given a linen nightgown and shown to a small bedroom in the eastern corridor of the dormitory. The supple cushion of the mattress billowed around her tired body. It was unlike any comfort she had ever felt. Her body was grateful for the chance to recuperate after her adventure. Gentle humming of chimes seeped into the room. It helped to put her more at ease. Christine pulled her blanket to her nose and said a small prayer before succumbing to a deep sleep.

There were no windows in the small room, so Christine had no idea what time of day it was when she awoke the following morning. She was greeted by a small breakfast tray that had been laid beside her bed. She inhaled deep into her chest, letting it go slowly. "Everything will be fine," she said to herself. Soon after placing the tray in her lap, she attacked her meal with frenzy. Tossing manners to the side, Christine could not remember food tasting this good. The eggs were cooked to her exact liking and melted on her tongue. The salted pork had a crisp shell, which had been seared on to perfection. The robust meal gave Christine the start that she needed.

The nuns replaced her bandages and Christine was relieved to see their medicine working so quickly. Her wounds were looking better but her body still ached with fatigue. She was about to ask for another bath before the nun interrupted her, "Father Rapier requests that you visit him in his chambers." Since her clothes were still being washed, she settled for the somber robes that had been lain out for her.

She took a moment in the novena to light a candle for her mother and father. Quietly, she prayed for forgiveness and asked for their guidance. She realized too late how fortunate she was in life. She promised them that if she were able to make amends for her sins, she would be a loyal and loving wife and mother. As she got up to leave, something made her turn back. Perhaps it was guilt or remorse, but, lighting another candle, she asked for Meg to be freed from the demons that tormented her.

Christine demurely knocked on the giant walnut doors. "Enter!" She heard, muffled, from the other side. Father Rapier was taking notes from the largest Bible Christine had ever seen. He looked up cheerfully as she entered, "Ah! Good morning, my dear! I trust you slept well," Father asked, "As could be managed."

"Yes, Father, thank you," was all Christine could whisper.

"One moment," he whispered with great effort. His face was contorted as he hurriedly finished the last of his writing. "There!" he cried out finishing with a dramatic flourish, "I just hate stopping in the middle of a great thought. This will be one my better sermons, I think. You should stop in if you get the chance!" He looked up excitedly at Christine. "Where are my manners? Please, have a seat."

Christine obliged. "Father, I know what you are about to say, and - "

"Let me stop you before you dig yourself too deep of a hole," Father Rapier interrupted. "You could not know, for I myself do not know what this conversation will lead to. I will say, however, that you got yourself in a right mess, but then, that's why you are here, isn't it?" Christine simply nodded. "Right, then. Now I do not know why you traveled back to that opera house. I may have a fairly good idea, but it is not my duty to reprimand you of it. I imagine that you have done that to yourself too many times to count these past hours." Christine only looked down into her lap, refusing him eye contact. "Now, you know why Erik brought you here, but I doubt you know why I asked you to visit with me today."

"No, Father, I do not know. I assumed you desired me to give Confession," Christine said.

"Well, that is between you and God, and the church will always be here if you decide to repent your sins to Him. You will find that I am not the type of priest that drives fear into the hearts of God's children. I, instead try to show you his love and compassion. It is God's mercy in the end that saves us all. There are people out there, not unlike Erik, that need to know that even in the darkest times, there is hope. I feel that Erik has come a long way, but still has farther to go. His salvation, I fear, will only come with learning how to forgive."

"Father, I think, in many ways, Erik has learned to forgive himself. He told me many times in the few brief moments we spent together of the redemption of his acts."

"Yes, he sees the error in his ways. And, yes I do believe that he forgives himself of them, but that is not the forgiveness I talk about here," he said reproachfully.

Christine was puzzled, "I don't understand."

He seemed to ponder whether or not to ask. With great hesitation he finally finished, "How much do you know of Erik's past?"

Christine thought a moment. The only story she ever heard about Erik was from Raoul. Even then, it was only a recount of how Madame Giry found Erik. "Only that he was treated very poorly as child. Horribly, in fact, by a Gypsy circus. Madame Giry rescued him after her was accused of killing his master. That is how he came to live in the Opera Populaire. He grew up watching the plays and began tormenting the actors and singers. The rest became my own story. I assume he has told you the rest."

"Yes, my child. He has. But how is it that a young child would ever come to be an attraction at a freak show? How could his mother, any mother allow their child to be publicly humiliated and ridiculed by perfect strangers all for the sake of entertainment?" Father Rapier asked inquisitively. After a few moments of silence, he finished his thought, "He will never seek acceptance of himself without confronting the person who started all of this. He needs to know why his life has been steered in this direction. You see, Erik needs to forgive the very person who abandoned him so many years ago. Ultimately he holds her responsible for everything horrible that has happened to him. Even if he does not realize it now."

"His mother," Christine whispered.

"Yes, his mother," he reaffirmed. "Erik has a great fear of rejection. I tried numerous times, unsuccessfully, to help Erik reenter society. I feel that he could add great, many things to this world. But he chooses to live in recluse, away from anyone or anything that isn't in his control. See, even with you, he is safe. He still controls you."

"With all due respect, Father," Christine scoffed indignantly, "In so uncertain terms do I give him the power to control me anymore! I put that behind me. Erik has, too. What we shared was, simply put, love for one another."

"Again, you misrepresent my intentions here. I have no desire to learn what - transpired - between the two of you. But I must ask. What does a distinguished lady and her former master have in common other than control? Hmm?" He started pacing around the room. "For the sake of argument, let's say, 'Yes!' it is love that brought you two together again. It is not the act of love itself that drives two people together against all issues of rationality and responsibility. The mere fact that you have come here to be with Erik, and not your husband, that proves, in many degrees, that you still allow Erik to control your actions. His power, his passion for life, lures you in. It makes you see aspects of your life that may make it seem that your life is devoid of meaning without him in it." He looked at Christine deeply, "You give him the power to decide your happiness and contentment."

Christine sat in stunned silence. Without ever meeting him before, Father Rapier was able to see her true intentions and exploit them for her to see. Even now, as she promised God Himself to return to her family untainted, she insistently justified her feelings for Erik. The priest was right, though she thought she had escaped her Angel's thwarting grasp, Erik had continued to possess her thoughts and actions. Collecting her thoughts, she merely said, "You are right, Father." Tears began watering in her eyes as she thought of Raoul standing faithfully beside her all these years. "He still controls my heart. My mind. Everything that I have ever known about me."

Father Rapier gave this moment enough time to sink into Christine. "It is time to let go of him. For both your sakes." He walked behind her and gently place his hands on her shoulders. "You need to believe that you alone have the power to determine your happiness, with God's help."

"Erik was right," Christine said in a daze before turning to look up at him, "You are very good counsel. I can see why he puts so much faith in you."

"Well, that's simple my dear. It's because I put so much faith into God. I am simply His messenger." Father Rapier sat back at his desk. "All the same, I thought you might be able to help Erik in this revelation I am trying to create for him."

"I do not think that it is wise that Erik and I should meet again, Father," Christine said discouragingly.

"No, I do not advise that you do. I am an old man, now. And the research I am looking for is beyond my capabilities. I dare not leave the church now, save for a few 'replenishing' endeavors I have taken upon myself to make," he said winking at Christine. "What I need now is beyond the scope of Paris, and I do not trust anyone else to be discriminate with their findings. Somehow, I think with you will serve that need perfectly."

"I will try my best, Father. But I do not know how much help I could be. I, too, resort to staying near my estate. While I know Raoul would not have a problem, his society acquaintances might frown upon anything outside of the 'norm' for wives of dignitaries," Christine answered.

"That will have to do, for now," the priest replied, exhausted. "You see, a year ago I was serving Confession when a peculiar gentleman entered the chamber. From the small glimpse I had of him, he was dressed in outlandish clothing and sporting a twisted cloth on top of his head - not exactly the dress one sees in a church of Our Lord." Father Rapier pursed his index fingers to his mouth. "He had a strange accent as well. Now, normally, I do not share information of my congregants to other parishioners, but this one might be of particular interest to you.

He simply said one word, 'Yessinia.' When I told him that it was a language I didn't understand, he stated, 'Her name is Yessinia. She is the woman you seek.' When I peered down through the holes, his black rimmed eyes took my attention.

'Who are you?' I demanded to know.

He looked around and said, 'We share a mutual friend. I understand that you have been looking for her. I alone know her name and I share it with you now.' When I asked for his name again, he said, 'People know me simply as - '"

"'The Persian,'" Christine finished. "He was a loyal and faithful attender. He was seldom seen, however. It was rumored later that he was one of the few who could validate Erik's existence. In fact, I tried to find him before setting out the theater."

"Ah! So he does exist!" Father Rapier cheerfully cried out. "Well, he left before I had a chance to ask any more questions and I have not seen him since."

"But Father, I still do not understand. Who is Yessinia?" Christine asked before she made the connection. "It couldn't be. How could he have even known?"

"Erik's mother. Yes, I thought it was strange as well. It seems that 'The Persian' served as Erik's confidant as well."

"But how could Erik have even known who she was? He was so young and I thought - " Christine was stopped before she could finish.

"He was nearly the age of nine, past the age of innocence and naivety. I imagine Erik knew a great deal about his past from the troupe he traveled with, even if it is not entirely true.," he sighed deeply.

"At the last Carnival I sought out to find as much information as I could in hopes that the same troupe traveled here year after year. It seemed God was on my side. Yessinia, I learned, was a dancer for the shows, luring men in to spend their money. I was told that she was quite beautiful and attracted many followers. She had a unique trait that not many Romanians possess - her eyes glowed green. That made her indispensable to the show. So at the age of eleven, Yessinia was forced to seduce men into emptying their pocketbooks. She was a commodity that brought in a great deal of money.

It was said that the son of a noble man found particular interest in her. He was over twice her age and already married with a child on the way. He paid Yessinia's uncle an ample amount of money and she was left to his own twisted devices. She gave birth to her son at the tender age of thirteen. Apparently, she had tried to rid herself of the child using alternate methods, but the salves she drank left damages to her son that could not be undone. I do not doubt, however, that she did not love her son. On the contrary, I think she loved him more than he'll ever know. Her love for him was so great that she was forced to cover his face to avoid the ridicule of her family and friends. She wanted to spare him the torment. She was young, though. Impressionable.

Her uncle eventually took the boy for his own profit. The mother tried to reclaim him, but he was already born a bastard. She had no real claim to him since he was illegitimate. Those children are forced to do the bidding of the patriarch. You know the rest of the story."

Christine was in tears. "So the man Erik killed was, in fact . . ."

"His uncle, yes. Knowing that this Yessinia was real, I went to find her whereabouts. They do not take too kindly to clergymen. Before I was asked to leave, I saw a Tarot booth. Posted above was a sign that read 'Mama Nia's Readings.' Slumped, resting on the side of the door was an woman who was well-withered and worn, but, even from a distance, you could see her green eyes shining from across the courtyard."

"You mean?" Christine asked in wonderment.

Father Rapier nodded his head, "His mother is still alive and well and has no idea that her son, Erik, is still alive, too."


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Sorry that it took so long getting this one out, if any of you are still reading this. My DS has been sick with a touch of the flu and is quite a grump. Chapters will not be coming out as fast as they have been in the past, and I appeciate all your patience. Having fun brainstorming and I usually end up changing the same chapter about three or so times before I am content with it. Plus, my "editor" is now MIA (vacation/life) so there are probably a lot of typographical errors in the last few chapters. Thank you all so much for reading. I appreciate all of your wonderful comments and am thrilled that you are enjoying it. Your support means the world to me. - t_

* * *

**Phanatic:** _Your comments are the best. They are so "animated."_

**phantomadark:** _Enjoy the ride! Sorry it took me so long to update . . . :-)_

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Anger, by far, was his preferred method of displaying his emotions. Erik had never felt pain like this before. Wrath had always been his crutch. It was easy for him to blame others for his misfortune in life. He found solace in that familiarity. Even if the fire of rage and bitterness burned all around him, he was peaceful inside. Erik was always able to deflect the emptiness he suffered from with his sharp tongue and unabashed fury and wit. After accepting Christine's love and desire, he had the same loneliness that he felt every day of his life, but could not feel anything but sorrow for what he lost. There was a dull beat in his chest that he did not recognize. In the moment he lamented for Christine, he thought, with great certainty, that he would die from her absence.

Erik could feel the cold air through his nostrils as he breathed in and out. Now, more than ever, Erik despised this refuge. Every corner and hallway had a story of happier times. He needed to escape. He bellowed out a deafening, defeated scream that echoed in through the corridor. He sprawled himself on the ground. While the main floors were host to many stories of many people, this underground dwelling centered on him. The walls oozed his story out of its pores. He had spent years fashioning himself to be the deity of the theater. He had spent many tedious years grooming a poor, unsuspecting child to become the love of his life. He had preyed upon her naivety and twisted it to his advantage. But it wasn't just Christine. He had always taken special pride in tailoring the inhabitants of this opera house to glorify his stature and serve his purposes. Looking down the damp, murky hallway, he had never felt more conquered. The story had changed.

The cool floor was almost comforting as he laid his face upon it. And there he finally felt it, the small speck of anger growing inside of him. "How dare she," he thought to himself. "Haven't I suffered enough?" Just as quickly as it started to fester, Erik stopped it. "But, you fool, you didn't stop her," he lamented. "And then you let her go." He was thankful for the stillness in the air. Though the hard stone floor cut into his bones, he dared not move. "How lucky it would be if my heart stopped beating at this very moment," Erik whispered to himself. "Then this pain will stop and I will finally be free of her." While he stared at the walls, he tried to empty his thoughts. He tried to focus on anything but her face and the way her body felt against his skin. Then he heard the water softly running down the corridor.

With much exertion, he rose back up to his knees. Erik sat, contemplating his own fate before he remembering the person he came back for. Meg was still chained to the floor. Inside, he feared that she was beyond redemption, that her madness could not be cured. It would be easier for the both of them to go this way. There would be less pain. Still, a tiny voice within cried out in compassion. Madam Giry would never forgive him if he let Meg go this way. Madame Giry had saved his life. He had always been obliged to do her bidding, within reason, of course. All she had to do was ask of him. She never did. Fear, perhaps, drove her away, like it did to so many others. Madame Giry had always been the faithful servant he had desperately searched for. She was his only true friend. His debt would be repaid if he saved Meg's. He would finally have his own life to live.

His steps were laborious. It took great difficulty for him to reach the open cavern. Meg was still lying peacefully on the bed. Erik breathed out a great sigh. Her face was swollen beyond recognition. There was blood covering her skin and clothing. He did not know of any doctor that would believe how he came to have this poor, battered girl that couldn't have suffered from Erik's own hands. And, now, he felt that his only recourse was to take Meg back to her mother. While he knew that Madame Giry had settled in a small town, he did not know where. Only Meg would be able to tell him and he did not know when, or even if, that would happen.

Meg was still unconscious. She looked frail and withered against the blood-red fabric. Saddened, it was looking at Meg in this state that he realized how he looked to Christine so many years ago. Meg had grown into a vision of beauty and grace, much like her mother. Her delicate features were perfectly framed with her gorgeous long, golden blonde tresses. If she had been anyone else's daughter, he might have chosen her instead. She was, by far the better pupil. He chose Christine, instead, out of respect for Madame Giry. She would never have allowed him to have Meg, he knew. And now she laid on the bed, defeated. Like him, she had lost her innocence chasing after something that could never be. Her madness disfigured her. He glanced across the room into a broken mirror and let out a disgusted sigh when he saw his reflection. It didn't matter how Christine, or anyone else, saw him. He would always be a monster in his eyes.

Looking back down to Meg, he thought it best to clean her up. Erik retrieved a pan of water and began to wipe Meg's face. He quietly labored at this small duty for a few minutes when Meg's eyes started to flutter open. A small, quiet sigh let out from her mouth and then she was still again. When he didn't see her breathing, Erik leaned in to check her breath. She gasped loudly, and Erik jumped back, startled. Meg started moving again. Erik took a few steps back as Meg sprang to life once again. She opened her eyes, calm. Slowly the realization of the past hours events came back to her. She rapidly checked to make sure that she was all right. She grunted in pain as she tried to move her legs and arms. Her eyes darted around the room and stopped to stare at Erik. They stared at each other in silence before Meg quickly got to her feet and ran to escape. She did not realize that her ankle had been chained. Her face squarely hit the floor.

Quickly, Erik set the basin of water on a stand next to him and ran to Meg's side to help her. When he bent down to extend his arm, she flipped around and kicked him in the mouth. When he fell back, Meg lunged at him, grabbing at his throat. Though she tried to choke him, Erik promptly overpowered her and forcefully withdrew her hands from his neck. She kicked him in the groin with her unbound foot. He stepped back, writhing in pain. She made no further attempt to attack him as he caught his breath. After collecting his thoughts, Erik screamed, "Are you crazy!" Still in agony, he forcefully said, "I am here to help you!"

Meg burst into tears. She screamed back at him, "You let her go, didn't you!" Meg screamed through her tears. She took his silence as an admission. "How could you? After – everything."

"Meg," Erik began, "Christine is no longer your concern. You are fortunate to have your life. If I hadn't of stopped her, I'd be burying your corpse right now." He waited for the realization to set in, but Meg only stared blankly in front of her. "What I chose to do has nothing to do with you. You took advantage of a situation, nothing more." Staring at her with his piercing eyes, he continued, "Meg, I had to let her go, but I came back here to help you. And this is how you thank me. I could have easily left you here to die." More to himself, he said, "I knew I should have chained your other foot as well." He took the butt of his hand to wipe off the blood that was seeping from his lip. Looking at it, he said, "Perhaps it was wrong of me to try to help. I should have left you here to die."

"No, Erik," Meg lamented, "I didn't mean to hurt you." The swelling of her cheek became more pronounced. "I must look a mess right now. My whole body aches." She felt around the bump on her cheek. "She thumped me rather hard, wouldn't you say?" A nervous laugh drained from her mouth. "I didn't think she had it in her. She was always so passive." Her eyes met with Erik's. She mockingly said, "She must really have loved you." Erik turned his back and started to leave. Meg admonished herself, "No! Please, don't go! Don't leave me here! I'm sorry. My mouth has a way of getting me into trouble lately."

Erik stopped. "Meg," he whispered, "You don't belong here." He faced her. "I told your mother that you would go on to do great things. I have great respect for your mother, I would never lie to her. You have the potential to be the best." Erik added almost silently, "Your father would be so proud of you." He looked back at Meg. "You are better than THIS. Don't you see? The nightmare never ends in this horrid place. It traps you here. Feeds on your misery. The sooner you get out of here, the sooner you will get better. I promise. You need to get out of here. The filth of this – this tomb has poisoned your mind."

Meg sat on the bed. Sighing, she said, "I want to be here with you. I came back for my own sanity," to which Erik slightly scoffed. Meg continued, "But then I realized that I wanted to come back so that I could be with you. I wanted to show you that we are not all like Christine. For the past two years all I wanted was to love you. Don't you see? This is the only place where I can do that. We are both creatures of the night. They don't understand us out there." Her big, blue eyes shimmered. "Why can't we just stay here? I'll prove to you that I am faithful. Please, show me that the world isn't this cold and empty place. I will make you happy, Erik, I swear!" Meg pleaded with him. "Let me love you. I would do anything for your love in return!"

Her pleading eyes left him hollowed. An empty heave was the only thing that Erik could muster. The silence between them was fierce. Finally Erik answered, "I understand what you want me to do. A small of me wants to be able to give that to you. You are - so much like your mother. But please understand that is something I could not to give you, Meg. My heart will always be carefully guarded away."

"You mean, **Christine** will always have your heart," Meg sneered at him. "She will be the only woman worthy of your affection, won't she? Fine then," she snapped, "Waste it on her. That undeserving cow! And you are a fool to give it to her!"

He stared coldly at her. It took all of his effort not to choke the life out of her. Erik shot back, "So we're done here, then. I will leave you to your misery. I will be sure to tell your mother where she can find your body, you ungrateful ingrate." He gathered the supply of food and placed it in a knapsack. "I thought I might be able to reason with you, but I see that you are beyond that." He found a cloak and wrapped it around himself. "Even if it takes me ten years, I promise to find your mother so that she may see the fruits of her labor - a deranged daughter lying dead in the opera house in which she grew up."

"Don't you dare threaten me! I am not a child! You are just trying to make me believe that you are leaving. I won't tell you where she is!" Meg sat defiantly. "And I know you won't leave me here. If something were ever to happen to me, and my mother knew you could have prevented it, well, you would be in a sorry state. Don't think that I haven't heard of your history with her. You owe her your life!"

"But not yours. If you were genuinely concerned for your mother, you would go back to her and not use her as a means to manipulate people to get what you want out of life. I have absolutely no obligation to you. And I think it's best to remember who you are talking to," Erik coarsely whispered. "You have no idea of what I am capable of. And how will your mother ever know? If she knew where you were, she would have come for you long ago. You are in a desperate state, cherie. And I am a depraved monster. Do not second-guess my seemingly good nature. I have no further motivation to keep this facade any longer."

Meg stood stoically, tearing into Erik with her scathing eyes. Erik laughed, "I see that pride has gotten the best of you, too. Do not worry, cherie. I will find her . . . eventually. I hope that you get at least one more opportunity to see her." He turned back to the exit of the lair, "Everyone deserves to say goodbye to the ones they love."

He disappeared into the hallway. Erik heard Meg frantically scream behind him, "NO! Come back! Please! You will never reach Troyes in time!" He abruptly stopped. Pivoting, he turned around. He silently walked back to the lair. Meg was still screaming, "There is no food, I will die here! Plea . . ." Her voice trailed off as she saw him coming back.

Erik promptly went into the curtained area of his former dressing room. He pulled a false back out of an armoire. Meg heard numerous bottles tinkling as Erik rifled through them. He came out holding a small brown bottle in his right hand. Looking down at it with uncertainty, he gazed back to Meg. With a look of determination, he tore off a small cloth from the tattered curtain.

She knew what was happening. Meg began to scream. Erik held his finger to his mouth. "It will be much quicker and less painful if you don't resist. I can't have you escape." He poured some of the colorless liquid onto the cloth. The fumes were strong and Erik pulled his face away as far as possible. "To tell the truth, mademoiselle, I have never had to use this before. So I hope that I haven't used too much." Meg tried to run away, but couldn't shake her leg free. She went to kick Erik as he closed in on her, but he was ready and thwarted her attempt. "I asked you nicely my dear," he grunted as he yanked on her hair and pulled her close to him. He vigorously subdued her and placed the soaked cloth over her nose and mouth. It was only a matter of time before her body started going limp.

As Meg dozed off, she faintly heard Erik say, "How simple it would have been if she said Troyes to begin with . . ."


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Phanatic:** _I guess a better word would be "lively." Your messages are just too much fun!_

**vixen519**: _Thanks for reading! To clarify, in Ch. 1 Christine is able to "escape" their yearly family vacation by forging an invitation for a gala she is supposed to attendin Paris. Raoul and Jean take their vacation and drop Christine off in Paris where she gets into loads of trouble.Raoul and Jeanreturn in this chapter. HTH . . . :-)_

* * *

Chapter Twelve

She had never imagined Erik's life as a child. Yet it was the only thing she was able to think about the past few days. "Surely," she thought, "He must have been a child sometime during his life, you silly twit, Christine!" But it was hard for her to separate the man she had fallen in love with to a poor, helpless and defenseless child she heard Father Rapier speak of. It was easier for her to still envision Erik as the strong, albeit emotionally repressed, genius that fed passion into her life. He was ever so much older than her, which made their relationship unique. His dominance over Christine allured her. She hated to admit it, but she craved the subvert manipulation. Erik was one of very few men in her life that Christine allowed to dictate anything to her. Inside she was torn, still, by her innate love for Erik and the betrayal he committed against her innocence.

Christine had not found the closure she had so desperately sought out to find these past two weeks. Instead, she found herself questioning her inner voice at every moment. Christine wanted to help Erik in as much has she could be allowed. It would take valuable time and resources that Christine wouldn't be able to hide from Raoul. She knew he would disapprove of any other unescorted trips. Christine did not know how she would be able to find any more information from the comfort of her chateau. Father Rapier never fully explained to her why he was in search of this information. Erik could never be coerced into doing or feeling anything beyond what he set his own mind to do or feel. The hostility he showed, Christine reasoned, was justified. He had so many hardships in just his earliest stages of his life that most people would never dream of enduring in a lifetime. But her curiosity was peaked as well. Knowing Erik's past could help her understand her own. She would feel privileged to be one of very few people to learn of his history.

After returning from the convent, Christine had spent her last four nights in Paris resting at the hotel and gathering her strength. She never changed out of her nightclothes. All of her meals were brought to her room where she could dine in privacy. The solitude suited her. Christine would have to enjoy the tranquility as greatly as she could. She knew that in just a few days time she would once again be in Raoul's house surrounded by the chaos that comes with such a young family. Christine tried not to be bitter about returning there. Her time alone went too quickly, she kept thinking to herself as each day passed. Francois would be coming next morning to take her back to Champigny.

She slowly packed her remaining clothing in the big black trunk at the foot of her bed. The shoulder Christine had dislocated was still tender. It took great effort to move it back and forth. Bearing any small amount of weight caused it to buckle if she forgot to support it properly. After she placed her last dress in and closed the lid, Christine sat on top of it, dazed. The past two weeks had been hard for her, both physically and mentally. What merely started as a quest to find her mentor left Christine in a greater quandary than when she had begun. Hoping to clear her mind, Christine drew one last bath for her body to relax and heal. Her muscles were still stiff and sore.

As she labored trying to draw the water for her bath, Christine wondered if she should ask for service from the hotel maids. It was only after she came close to asking that she was stricken with the realization of how easy her life really was. Raoul's wealth and privilege provided her with people who satisfied her every whim and desire. But it wasn't only after she came into money. During the entirety of her life, Christine never had to take care of herself. Her father doted upon her. As his only child, Christine could ask the world of her father and he would be only too obliged to accommodate her requests. After his death, Madame Giry overcompensated and did everything Christine could ever need or ask for. While she danced in the ballet troupe, Meg was always quick to help her learn new forms and routines. And then there was Erik. Christine never wanted for anything. There was always someone there to help her and show her the way.

While the bathtub was being filled, Christine inspected herself in the mirror. The bruises, while not as dark and apparent as they were a few days ago, were still yellowed and looked menacing. She could only hope that they would disappear before Raoul and Jean returned home. Even if the household staff noticed, Christine knew that they wouldn't say anything to her husband. She could trust them to be discreet.

Christine could not get comfortable that last night. Though her body still ached with pain, she tossed and turned beneath the bedcovers. Her body, like her mind, could not keep still. All the events in the past two weeks played over and over again in her mind; Meg's hostility and suffering indifference she held in regards to the value of Christine's life, Erik's newfound gentleness and tender touch, the completeness Christine felt in the night she spent with him, the warmth of his arms as they wrapped around her, the feeling of her body nestled into his, and the liberating satisfaction that they both desperately sought with the fulfillment of their lust. But it was Erik's cold goodbye that left Christine in tears as she tried to fall asleep.

The piercing sun that peeked from between the curtains caused Christine to grimace. She felt as though she had just fallen asleep. Though she wanted to remain in bed for a few moments longer, a knock on the door woke her from her half-dazed state. "Enter!" Christine called.

A small girl entered the room. Dressed in her uniform, she curtsied to Christine, "Milady, your carriage and horseman awaits you."

Christine propped herself on her elbows, "Very well, mademoiselle. Please tell the driver that I will be down in a few moments time. Then tell the bellman he may come for my things."

"Yes, Viscountess," the maid curtsied again and shut the door behind her. Christine sighed and thumped back onto her pillow. She looked at the dress she laid out on her bed the night before. Christine could not postpone her departure any longer. Reluctantly, she rose to wash her face in the lavatory. The bellman took her chest down after she dressed. The sky was almost clear as Christine looked over the Paris horizon. The morning sun had turned the clouds a vibrant pink and orange. Breathing the crisp morning air, Christine laughed heartily as she exhaled. From her balcony, Christine could look into the courtyard of the town's square. The largest fountain was already full of little children playing in the water as their mothers were bartering in the marketplace. As children, she and Meg played here countless times. Christine felt relieved reminiscing of good memories of her life from so many years ago. She smiled quietly at it. The familiarty of the hustle in Paris was comforting. Though she knew she would miss it after she left, Christine knew her heart would always belong here.

Descending down the stairs, Francois bowed deeply to her, "Viscountess," before looking up with a mischieveous smile on his face.

Christine laughed, gently slapping Francois' arm when she reached him. "To address me so formal." His familiar face eased her anxiety. "Raoul will have to have a few words with you, I think." She smiled genuinely at him. When she caught him staring at the remenants of her injuries, she haughtily said, "Oh, they are nothing. I just fancied a ride through a lovely little pasture and my horse was a bit rambunctious is all." Christine laughed nervously. "They should be gone before the Viscount is home. Let's not worry too much over it, please," Christine pleaded, winking at Francois.

After a stunned silence, Francois quickly hid his concern and courteously bowed again, "Of course, milady. Whatever your wish . . . it is my honor to serve you."

Christine laughed again, "That's it, you insubordinate buffoon! I will teach you to make a mockery of me! Twenty lashes should set your manners right!" The other guests looked on in bewilderment as Francois and Christine ran out of the lobby laughing hysterically.

The chateau still stood as an empty reminder to Christine of what her life was to become. As she entered the embellished home she shared with Raoul, her soul did find a small amount of comfort being surrounded by her belongings. The ride with Francois put her good spirits back in order. As she entered the foray, Christine stopped at a small marble figure near the double sweeping staircase. Tracing her gloved fingers over the small statue carving of Jean, she was surprised at how heartsick she was to see him again. Raoul had it commissioned for Jean's first birthday as a special present to Christine.

The bedroom was on the second level of the house. Every step caused Christine's back to strain with spasms. She politely whisked away the help Geniveve, he handmaiden, offered her with the wave of her hand and a warm smile. Wearily, she pushed herself to crawl to the end of the hallway. Christine threw herself on her soft bed and stared at the slanted ceiling for a while, daydreaming to herself. She still could not keep Erik from her mind. He had given her pleasure that was unparalleled to anything she has felt her entire life. She did not even realize that she was crying again. Quickly, she caught her tears with her fingers admonishing herself to grieve over this. "Erik was right," Christine told herself. "This is where I belong."

Thankful to still be alive, Christine wanted to make good on her second chance. She made an oath to herself to honestly try harder at her marriage and motherhood. Raoul did not deserve the cold treatment he received from Christine. She decided to use what little time left of her vacation to dedicate to her new endeavor.

During the next week Christine diligently tried harder at her housework as she awaited the arrival of her husband and child. In order to fill her days, she appointed herself tasks and new things to learn. After countless hours, her crochet had finally started to look presentable. She reorganized Jean's toys and clothes virtually everyday trying to make it perfect. She even took it upon herself to meet with Nadina, the head cook, to learn how to prepare Raoul's favorite dish. Christine was determined to begin this life anew. She wanted to make Erik proud and she promised to herself that she would be the best mother and wife she knew how to be. Though she was still lonely for him, she did her best to purge him from her thoughts most days.

There were butterflies in her stomach when she saw the dirt cloud over the hills. Christine was like a schoolgirl waiting for the first day of school. Eager to see them both, she found herself skipping along the corridors of the house. Christine primped in front of the mirror. Nadina simply shook her head in laughter seeing Christine this flustered. She chose to wear a strikingly gorgeous red silk gown, Raoul's favorite shade on her. Her hair had been swept up in a bun, more fitting to the role of wife than letting her tresses down and free. In every way, she wanted to present herself a loving and loyal wife.

Inside her heart was jumping when the carriage pulled up to the front of the house. As soon as the Francois opened the door, Jean screamed, "Mama!" His bright blue eyes twinkled at her. He ran to Christine and pulled her down by her skirts to give her a tight hug. "Miss you, Mama?" he cooed to her, pointing at his chest.

She was trying to contain the tears that had already spilled on her cheeks. "Of course I missed you, Jean." Christine rumpled Jean's hair as she got up to greet Raoul. She heard Jean scream, "Dina!" as he ran into the cook's arms. Christine turned back to see her husband emerge from the coach. The smile on her face glowed when she met him. Not caring who saw, she pulled him close and gave him a passionate embrace. Though he was surprised, Raoul quickly recovered and held her snug against him. When she pulled away, she whispered to him, "I missed you, too."

Raoul smiled back down to her. "Apparently," he chuckled. "I don't believe I ever been greeted with such a warm reception." Raoul picked Jean up and held him with one arm. "It is good to be home, isn't it Jean?" Raoul asked him while winking at Christine.

"Yes, Papa," Jean jubilantly answered his father. "Mama home. Dina and Geni home. Doggy home. Toys home." He pointed to his chest. "Jean home!" Christine and Raoul both laughed.

"Yes, yes. Jean's home!" Raoul cried out to him. Taking Christine's hand into his, he started leading them into the house. "Well I hope that your mother didn't find herself too lonely while we were away. I know I have been lonely for her." He tenderly looked to Christine. "Tell me, love, how was it reliving old days again?"

Christine stopped in her tracks. "Could Raoul know?" she asked inside her mind. Trying to act as nonchalant as possible, she stuttered, "Why, Raoul, wh- what do you mean? Old days!" She laughed nervously.

"The gala, dear. That is why you stayed behind, right?"

"Oh! The gala!" Christine was instantly relieved. "Yes, the gala was fine." She started removing Jean's overcoat. "More of a small get-together, really. Seems I have fallen out of favor these past few years. But, no matter!" She turned back to Raoul. "I had a wonderful time going through the streets of Paris once again. But I have a few things here that I couldn't do without. As much I may miss that life, my place is here with you and Jean."

Raoul walked to her side. He held both of her small hands in his. After gently kissing her forehead, he whispered to her, "I love you, darling. Truly, you are my heart. You must know that." Christine felt warm from his gaze. Smiling, Raoul quickly turned to Jean and growled, "Papa is going to get you!" Jean screamed and ran down the hallway with Raoul chasing after him.

Christine stood stoic, only able to smirk a sad smile. "This will be harder than I thought," she told herself.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

_**Author's Note:** So it has been a while since I last updated. Sorry that it has taken so long. I've been super busy at work and my writing has suffered. Hope to get back into groove soon! - t_

* * *

**Phanatic:** _Thanks for your continued support! It really means a lot to me!_

**Tomy:** _Welcome aboard. Glad you are enjoying it!_

* * *

Chapter Thirteen 

Meg's limp body was difficult for Erik to maneuver. As he tried to keep his balance, Erik found himself swaying from side to side. He shuddered every time he heard Meg's head thump along the wall. A few times he had to stop and collect his breath. In his prime, this would have been an easy task. Erik softly had to remind himself that he was getting along in his years and no longer the strapping young man he once was. He was angry for having to admit this small defeat. In the small opening where Meg had kept Christine and him captive, Erik put Meg gently on top of the rope netting. He went back outside into the musky evening air. Inhaling deeply, he thought to himself that there was nothing as comforting to him as the smell of the Paris night sky, even if the old stables were but a few meters from him.

He pulled his cloak tightly around his body and made sure that his face was covered. Heading toward the street he stopped at a small fruit stand. Purchasing some apples and grapes, he thanked the cowering boy left to tend the stand while his mother was away. The bakery was only a few blocks down. Erik admonished himself for not getting prepared before retrieving Meg as he filled the first of two canteens from a nearby well. He hoped that she wouldn't wake up before he returned.

After he finished gathering all the food and water he could carry, he returned to look over a stable from across the opera house main gate. It was attached to three-story brick home that was owned by a very prominent member of Paris' influential circle of self-appointed members. Madame Sherriney was a friend to the Persian once before. Nadir had always told Erik to call upon her whenever the need would arise. He assured Erik that any request would never be denied. Erik hoped that his luck would hold true. He did not think twice of it when he rasped the door handle. It was only after the long wait that he panicked about the hour he was calling upon her. A stately looking older gentleman answered the door in his nightclothes. Sizing Erik, he calmly answered in an annoyed lisp, "Who calls at this late hour? The lady of the house is sleeping and does not wish to be disturbed."

Erik whispered, "Tell your lady that an interested party inquires on behalf of her old Persian friend, Nadir." That comment seemed to work as the butler's eyes grew slightly larger and he graciously allowed Erik to enter. Erik followed up the stairs, the butler lighting candles along the way. Madame Sherriney's town home was adorned with exquisite tapestries from around the world. Many gifts, he knew, must have been from Nadir himself. The butler showed Erik to a small, but crowded sitting room. This area was filled with a various mishmash of trinkets and statues that seemed to have all been placed here for lack of space in the rest of the home.

As he was looking over an ivory horn carving, a small voice called from behind him. "Nadir said that you might come here someday." Erik turned to see an elegant, but small woman dressed in sheer lavender robes. Her hair was half up in a chignon, but the rest of it flowed past her right shoulder in curls. It was dark crimson, but Erik could see the white strands speckled throughout. The redness of her hair was not a trait that French women had naturally. She smiled grandly. "I had always hoped to see you someday. My Naddy spoke so highly of you." She walked around and sat in a billowy chair across the room. "I would offer you some tea, but I do not think that is why you have called upon me, is it?"

"No, Madame Sherriney, but I thank you all the same," Erik replied, bowing. "I am in need of a horse and carriage. I have some - "Erik hesitated, "Some business that needs to be taken care of, post haste. Nadir said that you might be able to help me." When she didn't immediately respond, he continued, "My friend is in a bit of troub - "

Madame Sherriney gently waved him off, "I do not need to know specifics." She nodded at her butler. "Favien will help you with anything you need." She stared at Erik for a moment, "You are not as menacing as the stories would have you. I am glad to have finally met you, Erik. Please, if you ever need anything again, do not stop to see me sometime. I very much enjoy the company." She got up to return to her chambers.

"Madame," Erik called after her, "I do not know when, or if, I will able to return."

She turned her head, "They are gifts to you to do what you with. It is my pleasure." Seeing his hesitation, she prodded, "Please, I insist. It is the least I can do for him." Erik bowed graciously and started to leave. She called out, "Have you seen him?"

Erik turned back, "It has been nearly three years without word, Madame." He saw her nod her head.

"I thought as much. If you should see him before I do, please tell him that I miss him terribly." She turned to look at Erik one more time, "He was such a dear person to me. I would very much like to see him again, even if just one more time."

Erik simply nodding again and met with Favien in the stable. A white and brown spotted mare was already hitched to a small buggy. "I hope that this will suffice," Favien droned. "I could get a bigger one ready for you, Monsieur, if that is your wish."

After Erik told him that it would be fine, he rode back to the stable yard of the Opera Populaire. Quickly, he ran inside to see if Meg had escaped, but he was relieved to find her sleeping peacefully as he left her. He took some rope from the hoist and began wrapping it around her ankles and wrists. With a heavy heave, he threw her over his shoulders and began to transport her to the carriage. Placing her delicately in the seat, he threw his bag to the front and began his trip to Troyes. He rode through to the sunrise whistling songs to help keep him awake. Finally when he could go on, he stopped near a small wooded area to close his eyes and rest. A small stream with greenery was enough for the horse. He unhitched her and tied her to the tree. The mare paced about to eat and drink before lying on its side. Erik placed a heavy blanket over her, stoking her neck. She whinnied back to him. He smiled at her. He sat back on the carriage. Perching himself to nod off, he let himself drift off to a much needed sleep.

A small rustling jostled Erik back awake. Meg must have risen from her induced sleep. Her screams were muffled from inside. Reluctantly, he stepped off and retrieved some fruit and bread from his knapsack. He carefully opened the door and jumped back as a precaution. Meg lashed her feet at him, "You monster! You drugged me and then kidnapped me!" It was hard for Erik not to laugh as Meg thrashed about. She let out a primal scream that echoed in the wilderness. "Let me go!"

Erik could not help but laugh at her after the last scream. "Don't you dare mock me! Release me at once!" Meg screamed furiously.

"I can leave you here, mademoiselle, if that is really what you want. But I feel that I should warn you. You see, as I cannot untie you until we arrive at our destination, you would be bait for all the creatures that live in those woods," Erik calmed replied pointed to the trees. "But if you insist, I will leave you here on your own accord." He leaned forward to carry her out. As if on cue, a horrible sound came out from the forest. Meg froze. "So you are not as brave as you seem. How about I let you out so that you can relieve yourself, eat some food, and then we can be on our way." Meg looked as though she were calculating another route to escape but slowly nodded her head in reluctance. Erik went back to help her before stopping to warn her, "I do still have that bottle of chloroform and will not hesitate to use it again. I hope that I won't."

Meg seemed to understand as her body went soft. Erik carried her into the privacy of some trees and bushes. "You will have to manage the best you can," he said to her empathetically. "I cannot risk you being able to run away." Reluctantly, he loosened her wrists slightly. "That will have to be enough to work with." Seeing her squirm, he told her, "I know that it is difficult. Believe me," he whispered, "I know. This is the best I can do. I'm sorry." Erik turned back to the carriage. Looking at the sky, he thought that it must be mid-day at least. He retrieved an apple from his sack and went back to the mare.

Picking up the tossed blanket, he saddled up next to her laying his face on her warm body. "Good girl, he whispered. "Just a little more to go." She turned and nipped at the prize he carried in his hand. Erik happily gave her the well-earned treat. He heard her crunching through it as he went back for Meg. She was waiting for him, indignant. Stepping towards her, he asked, "Will I have to tighten those, or can I trust you to behave yourself?"

Meg stared loathsomely at Erik before grunting, "You can trust me." Erik smiled and led her back to the coach. He gave her two apples, some grapes, a loaf of bread and one of the canteens of water after she was seated in the back. She waited until he left to fill his canteen before she dove into her feast. Erik refilled his water and hitched the mare back to the carriage. He would have to ride through the woods before he could tell how far it would be to his destination.

Now that Meg was awake, he heard her thump against the side whenever she had to stop. He didn't complain. He knew the horse was tired as well. They stopped again at night to sleep. Meg did not speak to him at all. The next day Meg continued to stop the carriage. After two breaks, Erik figured that Meg must have fallen asleep since there were no more interruptions. He started whistling to himself again as he caught himself nodding off. Without thinking, he began to whistle the melody of some of the songs he had once coached to Christine. He stopped as soon as he realized. It wasn't long before his mind began to wander back to her. He took small comfort in his bittersweet memories.  
Lost in his thoughts, his head began to dip and bend with exhaustion. Just as he thought he would doze away, a huge clap of thunder erupted from the sky. The clouds unleashed a cascade of water. The jolt gave Erik the much-needed adrenaline to get him through the rest of his journey.

For its proximity to Paris, it was surprising how Troyes had remained mostly pastoral in nature. There was only one billowing smokestack from a small industrial plant, but it could hardly overpower the view. Erik could not help but gaze at the beauty of rolling hills surrounding the town. As he rested for a brief moment, the rain started to die away and through the storm clouds Erik saw the most brilliant cornflower blue sky peeking through. Making sure his face was concealed, he led the mare into the heart of the small town. Not finding any recognizable signs, he stopped a young woman walking in the street. "Excuse me, Mademoiselle, I am looking for an old friend. Madame Giry? Do you know where I could find her?"

"Madame Giry?" she questioned. "I am sorry, monsieur, I am not familiar with this name."

"I believe she teaches here at the dancing school."

"Hmm. Well, I know the miller is housing some has-been from Paris. Perhaps she is teaching his daughters? He lives at the end of the town. Down near the creek" she pointed, indicating where he needed to go. "Just two streets down. It is next to the windmill."

After he thanked her grittingly through his teeth, Erik continued on his path. People on the street stared at him as he rode past. Furious at their audacity, Erik forced the horse into a full gallop to his destination. The school was nothing more than a large shed next to the miller's building. His heart dropped. This is what Madame Giry had reduced to after Erik's fiasco. Guilt sat heavily in the bottom of his stomach. He checked in on Meg. She was still sleeping. Securing the horse to a nearby post, he made his way to the entrance. His gloved hand only tapped on the door twice before a young girl greeted him. She looked no older than five or six and stood petrified at the masked figure framed in the door. "Umm, hello. Is Mada -"

Before Erik could finish, she let out a piercing scream. Erik jumped in alarm and fumbled over himself trying to calm her down, without success. Her teacher escorted her to the back of the room. Still turned away, Madame Giry cried out angrily, "I insisted that there was not to be any interrup-" She stopped suddenly turning back to look at the figure guarding the doorway. "Who are you?" She asked quickly, "What business do you have here? The miller should be back at any moment if you would just wait!" Erik could only stare at her. She still had fire in her eyes and had hardly aged a day. When he didn't answer, she spat back, "What do you want, then?"

"Perhaps it is better that we speak in private, madam." Erik told her.

"I asked you a question, monsieur" she replied indignantly. "You are interrupting my class. I expect a direct answer, this moment, before I continue with this charade."

Regaining his composure, he leaned in. Making sure that no one else was able to see him, Erik pulled a small corner of his cloak away. "It is your ghost, Madame. Please, I need your he –" but Madame Giry wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight Looking up at him, she tenderly wiped off some dust that accumulated on his overcoat.

"Erik! Oh, Erik, is it really you?" She beamed at him. "You are all right! I didn't think I would ever see you again!" When he didn't reciprocate her excitement, her face dropped. When she pulled away, she shouted back at her students, "Class is over for today. Please, go home now."

Disappointed, the girls began moaning their displeasure. "Now!" Madame Giry snapped back at them. "We will make up for it later, I promise." Erik quickly recovered his face as only four girls passed him to leave. Each one stopped and stared at him in terror. "Go, quickly. And don't stare. It's rude!" Madame Giry ushered them out. The girl that had answered the door stopped to inspect Erik even closer. Before Madame could stop her, the little girl kicked him in the shins and ran off. "Horrid creature. My apologies. Please, come in," she asked to Erik. She led them into a small back room with a tiny kitchen and two beds. "I will put on some tea. Make yourself comfortable."

"I need you to see this first," Erik said rubbed his leg. He pointed back outside.

"What exactly are you here for?" Madame Giry asked, involved with her task. "To take me away from all of this? Rescue me?" She laughed. Looking back to him, "It is good to see you, Erik. It has been too long, old friend." She retrieved two matching china cups from a cupboard above.

"It's Meg, Madame." Erik solemnly answered.

Madame Giry stopped suddenly, dropping one of the cups to the floor. She turned back to look at Erik, "You have seen her?"

"She is not well, I fear. She's been at the Opera house, Madame. She's been there for quite sometime, now. Almost a year."

Madame Giry simply nodded and retrieved another cup from the cupboard, "So what is five more minutes?" She slammed the kettle on the stove and turned back to Erik, her eye glowing with anger. "You don't know what that girl put me through. I awoke one morning to find her gone. Without a note, or saying good-bye." She tossed her hand in the air. "If she is not well, it is of her own doing."

"You don't mean that." Erik empathized with her. "You should really - "

"Why wouldn't I!" she yelled as she forcefully pounded her cup on the table. "She deserted me." Glancing brazenly at Erik, "Much the way you did." She leaned in on her elbow, burying her forehead into her hand. Sighing, she said, "You know, she was the one who saved me afterwards. Found someone that would take us in. I really can't blame her for wanting to escape this horrible place." She got up and began cleaning the chattered porcelain scattered across the floor. "I don't know why she would go back there." Erik crawled down to help her. "Thank you," she whispered, wiping away some tears that had started to form. "If she is such dire need of help, why wouldn't she come to see me herself?"

"Madame, she needs you. Now." Erik pleaded with her, trying to lead her back outside.

She brushed Erik off. "I am not going anywhere with you. If Meg needs my help, she can come ask for it herself."

Erik growled and stormed away. Madame Giry threw her head back in defiance. When she saw Meg limp in his arms, she caved in worry, "Oh no! What has happened?"

"Nothing," he whispered hoarsely with great effort, "She is sleeping." He placed Meg on the bed.

"Meg? Wake up! Mama's here." Madame Giry desperately cried out to her, "Mama's here!" She turned ferociously to Erik. "What did you do? Look at my little girl! You have her chained like an animal. Is this why you came for me! This is the trouble she was in?" Madame Giry traced her hand delicately along the cuts and bruises on her face. She rose and lunged at Erik, beating on his chest. "She was still a little girl! She didn't deserve this! How could you do this to me! To her!"

Erik placed his hands over hers and placed them down to her sides. "I have to attend to the horse." Without any more answers, Madame Giry only stared after him as he left.

Meg's eyes fluttered gently. Madame let out a small sigh. Slowly, Meg rose from her deep sleep. When she saw where she was, she looked back up to her mother and spat on her face.

"Meg!" Madame Giry admonished her, slapping her face. "What's come over you? What do you think you are doing!" Madame Giry tried to maintain her dignity as she cleaned her face with the back of her hand. She stood and walked across to the other side of the room. She ran back out to Erik.

"That is not the daughter I remember." Madame Giry glanced nervously at the house. "What happened to her?"

"She is in your care, Madame. I will leave her to you." Erik tried to shy away and leave.

Madame quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him forward to face her once again. "You cannot walk away from me this time Erik. I might have been afraid to confront you before, but not now. You will tell me, this instant, what exactly happened to my daughter. I refuse to play anymore games with you."

Erik sympathetically sighed, "I do not think that it would be wise to answer that."

"And why would that be?" was her curt reply. "Obviously something happened, and you were there to see it." She rolled her eyes at him. "You cannot all this way only to leave me here with this mad person for which I have no idea how or why it happened to begin with. You will answer me, Erik!"

"What, do you want me tell me that your daughter never learned the skills to cope with the outside world? Do want me to tell you that everyday she was out here she felt isolated and alone because you refused to act like her mother and provide for her? Or perhaps you would like me to tell you that her mind is so far lost that she convinced herself that she had kill Christine? Take your pick Madame. Which will you have it?" Erik bellowed out to her. "Your daughter is sick and needs your help. She has been hurting for you, Madame, even if she does not seem to care about you."

Madame Giry stood shocked and silent. They stood staring at each other. It took a moment to gather her thoughts. A single tear trickled down her stone face. Looking Erik in the eyes, she asked, "Is all that you told me true? Does she really hold me responsible? When Erik nodded, she sobbed quietly, " I never thought - I didn't mean for this to happen. I never wanted - " She clutched her fist to her chest and fell to the ground crying. "Oh, Erik, how could I let this happen? I should have gone after her. I should have tried to find her. I'm her mother," she pleaded with him, "I shouldn't have let her just walk away. What if she were dead? What if some stranger on the street had to be the one to tell me that my own daughter was dead?" Madame Giry began crying hysterically into her hands.

Erik kneeled beside her, "Madame, she isn't dead. Meg wants to do what's right. Deep down, I think she knows what she has done is wrong. You have to help her, show her the way. You are the only one that can."

Madame Giry wiped her nose with a hanky tucked into her sleeve. "You're right," she nodded in agreement, "I am her mother, after all. If not me, then who will help her?" She stood up to return into the house. "I am the one who must fix this."


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

**

* * *

**

**Phanatic:** _Of course I wouldn't be upset with you. You are my biggest fan. Thanks again!_

**Phantomfan1911:** _You flatter me too much! Thank you for taking the time to read my work. Your words of praise mean a lot. Hope that I didn't keep you waiting for too long . . ._

**

* * *

**

Chapter Fourteen

If Raoul had any guesses as to Christine's real whereabouts during the past two weeks, he hid them cunningly. The weeks following his return, Raoul was ceaselessly doting to Christine. It seemed that each morning renewed the passion he held for his wife. Christine found herself being whisked away into their bedroom at odd times of the day. His hands found ways to touch and caress her at every opportunity they were together. It was like the first months of their marriage. This time, Raoul was more confident in his pursuit. At first, Christine tried to relish in the moment. Intimacy was what she craved most when she sought Erik out. Now, receiving what she had wanted all along, she felt nothing but guilt for what she had done. If Raoul were to find out, Christine feared he would take Jean and leave her.

Jean was more of a delight to her, as well. Before, she could only see how much he was like Raoul. Becoming more active in his life caused her to see how painfully similar he was to her. They shared the same dislike of green vegetables. Given a choice, they would both choose to sing and dance to music instead of playing with toys. While Jean's temperament was more like Raoul's, whenever he wanted something Christine would notice him using the same pouting and coyness she had been using her whole life to get whatever she wanted. His smile was the best. Christine had never noticed his bright face shine has he looked to her for approval. Her heart would drop every time she remembered what she wanted Erik to do – to take her away from all of this. Erik was right. She needed to be a good mother to Jean. She wouldn't have wanted to miss watching Jean grow up for anything that Erik could have offered her.

Raoul had always been proud of his wife and would try to show her off. The community they lived in was full of the richest families in the province. He always tried to spoil her with exquisite dresses and overdone hats, but she would always turn his gifts away. As much as she tried to accept that she was now in a position where refinement and elegance were expected of her, a small voice cried from within her that would stop her from getting carried away with herself. Her father, though widely renowned, had always been modest and never acknowledged his place in society. He was content to live like the charming wallflower of a glorious party. Christine was trying to teach herself to do the same.

Their neighbors to the left, the Pountiff's, had been successful in the fragrance industry. It was no small secret that their house was the largest and most lavish. Many times, Raoul, Christine and Jean would meet them for tea or dinner upon their invitation. It was usually a meeting of various well-to-dos discussing their manly importance and their wives sharing fashion tips from Paris and London, or braggin about the latest gift their husbands had bought for them.

But everyone would fall silent for the hostess of the parties. Richelle Annabelle Marie Rocquefort Pountiff was very proper and conducted herself in such a manner that made Christine extremely uncomfortable while in her presence. Unlike most of the women here, she did not marry into wealth, she was born into it. Her father was the sole proprietor of the business and Richelle was his only heir. She carried herself with self-importance and, too often, was not afraid to tell people exactly what she thought of everything. It was not uncommon for her to wear the finest silk on a routine trip to the town square or a casual brunch with close friends. Her silky black hair was always drawn up in elaborate twists and knots, usually adorned with exotic flowers or jewels. Richelle throughly relished in the fact that she was the model in which most of Champigny's women drew inspiration from.

Her husband, Gustoff, was very warm and charismatic, almost the exact opposite personality of his wife. The entire community speculated about the intentions of her marriage to Gustoff, who, it was widely known, came from a relatively poor, unknown family. It was even rumored that his family was once the hired help to Richelle's family. His background, though, was easy to look past. It wasn't hard to see why Richelle might have been drawn to him. He had a very elegant face and a gentle smile that could immediately put anyone at ease. He exuded charm and was well received by everyone whom he met. Although Richelle was a bit trying at times, he was always patient and delicate with her. Richelle never reciprocated his affection, but Christine thought that the motivation for him staying had more to do with her position in life than with her demeanor. Nevertheless, Raoul always looked forward to meeting with him. Christine was rather fond of him as well.

They were childless, Christine assumed, on Richelle's request. It was not a hidden fact that Richelle detested the mere presence of children. Each time Raoul and Christine would call upon them, Richelle would insist that Jean could not stay home then he should remain in the kitchen where, she said, he would not make a mess of her house. Christine would always have to quietly accept Richelle's backhanded comments and bold rudeness. When she first arrived, she needed to make a good impression with Raoul's circle of acquaintances. Richelle held a great deal of power and authority. Now, ever so much more protective of her family, especially Jean, Christine feared what would come out of her mouth should the opportunity arise.

Right after the start of the New Year, an invitation arrived at the house asking for Raoul and Christine to attend a dinner the next night. The entire morning before their meeting, Christine's nerves had the best of her. Her head was throbbing during breakfast. The trepidation of that evening did not sit well with her stomach as she picked at her food. The smell of the jam alone sent her insides whirling with discomfort. Jean laughed at her when she gagged trying to swallow her croissant. Raoul, alarmed, asked, "Are you all right, dear?"

"Yes," she coughed into her napkin. Setting her croissant back on her plate, she confessed, "It's that dreadful woman, Raoul. I – I don't know if I can do this today."

"I know. I know. We only get but one invitation a month, if then! We were lucky! They skipped the entire month of December. It's seems like an eternity since we've seen anyone. I am sure people are talking. You know we have to do this." Raoul sighed. "Just think, after today we have another month to ourselves. Besides, I have been looking forward to meeting with Gustoff. It's been ages," he said as he gazed upon Christine with just eagerness that she laughed in spite of herself.

"I know, dear. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be selfish." Christine forced herself to smile back at him. "It's just – the way she talks, and the way she treats Jean - "

"I understand, Christine. He's my son, too. It's hard not to get angry with her. I never thought it bothered you before. But the invitation is only for the two of us. Jean will be fine to stay here for the night. I am sure the cook would love to have him to herself for a while. You've been hoarding him to yourself lately," he teased.

"Just making up for lost time," Christine answered softly. She tried picking at her breakfast once again. After the second attempt, she pushed her plate to the side and smiled at Raoul and Jean.

Raoul started, but thought better of himself. Only after prodding from Christine did he continue. "It seems you've been making up for more than just that, Christine. I'll be honest. I have been worried for quite some time. That's why I thought we needed this holiday. You were so disenchanted here, I know. The entire time I spent away from you only cemented in my heart how much I truly love you. When I left you at Paris, I thought to myself, 'This is it! She will finally leave me.' And then I saw you standing there waiting for us . . . there aren't words that could describe – You looked so beautiful."

Christine gently brought her hand to his cheek, "I was worried for us, too. This has been a brand new start for the both of us. I came out of Paris a new woman. I love you, Raoul. This will work. I promise, I'll be better." Raoul kissed the palm of her hand and he and Jean finished their meal, but Christine could still feel her stomach wrenching.

They kissed Jean goodnight as made their way to the mansion perched at the top of the lane. Christine's feet were like lead as she dragged them up each stone step. When they reached the door, she felt lightheaded and gave off a moist sweat from her brow. Raoul was able to grab her arm before she collapsed, "Christine!" Raoul led her to a bench in the garden near the walkway and started wiping her face with his handkerchief he kept in his left pocket. "You look so pale, my love. Why didn't you tell me you are ill? I thought you were just trying to avoid coming here. I'll tell Gustoff we will come when you are better."

"Oh, Raoul," Christine shooed him off laughing. "Don't be silly! I should have finished breakfast. Or had a bigger lunch. We are at their front door for goodness sakes! I am sure I will feel better once I have eaten." Raoul looked uncertain, but rang the bell regardless.

Christine and Raoul handed their overcoats to the maid and were astonished to discover the elegance being set in the dining room. The very best china was laid out and huge bouquets filled the room. As Raoul and Christine were being led into the sitting room, Christine began to fret over her dress and hair. She kept checking her reflection in every reflective surface she walked by. Raoul was right, she was pasty. With her skin so pale, she looked almost transparent. Pulling on a curl that stuck to her face, she had to wonder if she should have been getting ready instead of playing with Jean. Raoul had to grab her hands before she would stop playing with her looks. "You look beautiful, darling," Raoul whispered to her. After he leaned in and kissed her forehead, "It wasn't fair of her to not let us know. Don't let her see you fuss like this. That is what she wants to see."

"We're letting her make us look like idiots, Raoul! This is why we should invite _them_ to dinner. That way there will be less surprises." As she finished forcefully whispering her sentence, both Raoul and Christine were stunned that they were the only ones in the room. Before Raoul could ask where the other guests were, the maid shut the door behind her. Christine sat down in a huff. Raoul tried to comfort her as best he could, but despite his best intentions, Christine could feel her face growing hotter by the second. She finally turned to Raoul and snapped, "Am I wrong in assuming that we will be the only ones at dinner tonight?"

The doors suddenly opened and the first thing Christine notice was the striking indigo dress that Richelle had on. She offered her hand to Raoul who kissed her gloved fingers as lightly as he could. She then strutted to Christine, placed her hands on her shoulders and kissed each side of Christine's face. Before pulling away, Richelle whispered, you look absolutely quaint, darling." She got up and smiled at Raoul and Christine before leading them into the dining room.

Dinner was spent quietly among Christine and Richelle as Raoul and Gustoff told tales of their latest triumphs in hunting. Over her wine glass Christine tried not to notice Richelle smirking softly at her. Eager to please Raoul, Christine held her tongue and kept quiet throughout all the courses. She was relieved that Richelle made no effort to carry on a conversation. After dessert Gustoff and Raoul headed to the parlor for drinks. Christine tried to follow, but Richelle led her away.

"You look fabulous tonight, my dear. You must tell me who made this dress for you. The design is to die for, although I do not care for your choice in fabric." Richelle laughed, "But silly me, I keep forgetting, you are a mother. It must be extraodinarily durable. I am sure it will last you a very long time." She smiled brazenly at Christine. "I do spoil myself, though. Gustoff was just telling me that I have too many made. I must admit, most times, I don't even bother wearing them again. Takes the fun out of it all, don't you think?" Richelle gazed at herself in the mirror. "There is nothing like talking a new dress out of a box just to show off a bit."

Christine modestly smoothed the front of her dress. "It is a shame, though," Richelle continued. "You used to be so small and tiny before you had your child. But, I must say, this look does suit you. I mean, those ruffles up front are so clever." Richelle leaned in closer, "Hides all your flaws." She winked at Christine. As indignant as Christine was to these comments, she remained silent and composed. Richelle led her into the parlor. "Come, we talk too much. Our husbands are waiting. Let's hear what stories they are stretching now."

Christine quickly joined Raoul's side, squeezing his hand in anger. Raoul understood and stroked a piece of hair that had fallen out behind her ear, winking at her. Richelle still smiled slyly at Christine. Turning her attention to Raoul, she asked, "It is good to see you back. Did you enjoy your stay at your parents?"

"We did, thank you. It was a welcome retreat." Raoul smiled nervously.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Christine?"

Raoul quickly answered for her, "She did not accompany us, Richelle, as I am sure you know."

"Oh, yes. Where was that again? Paris, right!" Richelle playfully slapped her leg with the fan she was carrying on her wrist. "You know, Christine, as soon as I found out from Gustoff that you were going to comemmorate your past glory, I had to see if I could attend! My father was a patron of the Opera Populaire once, you know," she said to Raoul. She turned back to Christine, "But it was strange, I couldn't find anything of the sort in any of the society pages. It must have been a select grouping."

"As a matter of fact, yes, Richelle, it was," Christine stammered.

"Well, that must have been quite a room, then! 'Paris' Elite Celebrates Tragic Diva' I can just imagine the headlines! There were so many of us here that would have loved to attend," Richelle continued to stare Christine down.

"I am sorry, Richelle, I barely had enough notice as it was without thinking of seeing if you could have been added," Christine coyly answered back. "I will be sure to ask well in advance should the opportunity come again." Her voice slightly quivered was she finished her last sentence. Christine noticed that the room that was once bright was becoming dimmer with every minute. Her breathing became labored.

Panic quickly ensued and Christine found her face was growing hotter each second. Seeing Christine becoming flushed once again, Raoul stepped into the conversation. "Madame Pountiff," Raoul angrily interjected, "Now I have had enough of this little inquisition you are subjecting my wife to. What business is it of yours what my wife does or attends? I believe that if you were wanted, you would have been invited. Does that answer satisfy you?" Christine's head began throbbing again.

"Well, I suppose it does, Viscount," Madame Pountiff sharply answered back. Gustoff looked sympathetically at Raoul and Christine, but did not intervene. Richelle continued, "I just have to say that I found it strange that there was no mention about it in the paper. I was simply stating an observation. I do not understand where this anger is coming from, and I will not stand for it in my house!"

Christine had grown pale and appeared withered. "Sorry, Gustoff," Raoul said as he was rising, "But until you can manage your wife's manners and tongue, I think this has been quite enough for this evening." Raoul stood up, furious, and demanded the maid for their belongings.When Christine rose, the room began to spin and sweat encased her body. Before she could stop herself from falling, she remembered everything fading to black.

Her head was swimming and it seemed an awesome feat just to open her eyes. She was in her own bed when she awoke. Christine could see the concerned look on Raoul's face as he was talking to the doctor in the doorway. To her surprise, she saw Raoul excitedly hug him and run into the bedroom. He came to her side and caressed her hair. Picking up her hand, he kissed it and whispered to her, "A baby, Christine. We are having another a baby!"


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Phanatic:** _Thanks for still sticking by me. (I know that it has been too long between updates . . . hopefully work will be less demanding and stressful.) You rock! But you already knew that!_

**CaliBeachBum:** _I want nothing more than Christine and Erik to be together as well. But thiswas the only way I envisioned how the story would go. Thank you so much for reading. I am glad you are enjoying it!_

**phantomfan1911:** _You flattery almost embarrases me. Almost. Thanks for all your kind words. It really is too much. BTW, Richelle wasn't a favorite of mine until later. You'll see. But every story HAS TO have a villan.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen _

"A baby," Christine thought to herself. For the past three weeks all she could think about was the baby that was already growing inside of her. The midwife couldn't place a date she would deliver since Christine had still gone through her monthly cycles. Christine couldn't understand it. She had panicked initially at the start of December. She worried that her indiscretion with Erik might have had a bigger ramification than just her overwhelming guilt, but was relieved when the familiar feeling came and went just as it had always been. After waking up from the dinner disaster, Christine was absolutely horrified at what Raoul had so joyously shared with her. She was going through her phase that very day. Christine had to ask Raoul at least three times if the doctor was absolutely certain.

Raoul was more than elated. The very night the doctor discovered that she was pregnant, Raoul started writing letters to all of his family and friends. Christine always knew that he wanted more children. Secretly, she had always dreaded the thought of having another one. Jean was enough to keep both her and Raoul satisfied. She couldn't imagine loving a child more than she loved Jean. Even in the womb, the new baby was starting to cause Christine grief. This pregnancy was so much more difficult than Jean's. Each morning she awoke her stomach heaved without cause or reason. Her fits had become so wrenching that the midwife instructed her to remain in bed until it subsided. Instead of being able to keep the baby out of her mind with small, busy tasks, she was only able lie in bed thinking of her guilt and shame.

Raoul was only too eager to help his wife. He brought her breakfast every morning. He helped her bathe. He fluffed her pillows without even asking. Through all of his caring, her stomach and head only felt worse. In her mind, she felt as thought she would never get better. The midwife could only assume that her pregnancy occurred within the past few weeks. She could not admit to her about the possibility that she might be carrying another man's child. It was too risky. If Raoul ever discovered her secret, she knew that her life would be stripped from her. Thinking back on her adventure with Erik, she never once considered the possibility of bearing his child. The time she spent with him was a brief two days. Reasoning with herself, she forced herself to concede that this, in all likeliness, must be Raoul's child. She had spent more time with him. Moreover, she kept telling herself that God would not be so cruel to her.

Her neighbors had already learned of the baby and were now incessantly visiting the house. Christine tried hiding as long as she could, but knew she was obliged to entertain them as Raoul's wife. Her duty, as she agreed to abide by when she returned, was to be at Raoul's side. The entire community was happy to congratulate the young family. Raoul's parents had sent gifts for the baby's room. Phillippe and Sarah made house visits every other weekend. With all the extra attention she was receiving from Raoul's family, Christine feared that Raoul had shared with them her and Raoul struggles as a married couple, but she didn't have the gumption to ask Raoul about it. Even Jean grew more and more excited as his Papa told him with great enthusiasm, "Jean will be a big brother now! Soon we will have a new baby to play with!" Christine was content that her family was happy. Their happiness, she concluded, was her happiness as well.

As the spring months wore on, time faded away the sting of her guilt. The birth of the green season seemed to give her a chance at a new beginning as well. "How will anyone know?" Christine kept asking herself. It wasn't until the beginning of summer that she allowed herself the luxury to feel excited about the baby. By touch, the midwife said that the baby should be due sometime in September. Overnight, it seemed, her sickness went away. She no longer felt exhausted soon after rising for the day. The flames of passion she had for Raoul kept intensifying. Now she was the one to whisk him away in the bedroom. She had made a bevy of blankets and layettes. Raoul surprised Christine by setting up the guest room with Jean's old furniture. She spent days there setting everything just to her liking. Caught up in the midst of her excitement, the thought of Erik was a distant memory.

Jean had been a docile baby, seldom moving. But she did get substantially bigger, it seemed, with each passing day. She had to order a whole new wardrobe in her third month. With this new child, Christine hardly had to make any alterations to her clothes. The little one kicking inside her now did so with great gusto and tenacity. It wasn't until the end of July that her entire body swelled to gigantic proportions. Her feet, in particular, could not fit into any of her shoes or boots and she was forced to run around the house in bare stockings or feet. Raoul tried to have something made, but as accommodating as the tailor was, Christine always felt that she was wrapped in circus tents accented with horribly oversized bows.

Christine waddled from place to place, making it difficult to care for Jean. Raoul had been caring enough to watch over him. It was a mid-August morning when Raoul cautiously approached Christine, "My love, I hate to trouble you with this, but Jean is getting restless. It's been so long since we've been out. If it's all right, I would like to take him someplace where he can get some fresh air and run around a bit. There is that lake not far from here, maybe we can go fishing."

"Of course, Raoul. I am shocked you are asking my permission to go! I know how boring it must be here for you two. Go! Get out there, have fun!" Christine shooed him off, secretly relieved to have some time to herself. "This house is full of people who can help me should the need arise. The mid-wife says that it should be another month. Besides, this is really a woman 'thing.'" When Raoul looked painfully wrenched into making a final decision, Christine insisted, "I mean it, Raoul. You could use the break, too. You have been entirely too good to me. If I must, I will kick the two of you out myself! Please, Raoul, I insist."

Raoul broke into smile, "A man could not ask for a better wife!" He kissed her swiftly on the cheek. He ran out into the kitchen. Christine heard him ask Jean, "Do you want to go fishing with Papa!" She heard Jean squeal with delight. Raoul called to Christine from the kitchen, "I'll just collect some last minute things to pack.

"And don't forget to ask Nadina to pack a meal for you both to eat," she called out to him as he ran upstairs to the bedroom to change into something more appropriate.

Little Jean ran to her from the kitchen. "Fishies, Mama. Me go fishie. Papa go fishie. Mama go fishie?"

"No, sweetie, Mama is staying at home. Mama has to get ready for the new baby." Jean tucked his head into her shoulder.

Jean looked sad for a brief moment. He looked up at her and placed his cheek upon her thigh, "Jean's Mama's baby."

"Of course, sweetheart! Jean will always be Mama's first baby." She wiped the tears that had formed in his eyes. "Oh, it's okay. Mama will try to go next time." She lifted his head and kissed him gently on each cheek.

Raoul emerged from the foray, "We should be back before sunset. Send Francois out if – well, if anything should – happen. He knows where we are going."

"I'll be fine, dear. I promise." Christine smiled sweetly at him. She turned to Jean and whispered, "Papa is going to leave without you. You better hurry."

Jean ran out to him screaming, "Papa! No leave me!" He leaped into Raoul's arms. Christine waved good-bye to them from the front window. After seeing them turn around the corner, she sunk into a soft armchair. Just as she was ready to nod off, Genevieve touched the side of her arm, gently waking her up.

"I am sorry Viscountess, Nadina says that she needs to make a trip to the marketplace this morning." As Christine looked up, Genevieve curtsied. "She asks if I would be able to join her since she has so much to buy. She doesn't want to leave you when the baby is here." Since Christine was still groggy, Genevieve continued, "We should be back early this afternoon, but I can stay here if you prefer, of course, milady."

Christine snapped back to reality, "I am sorry, Genevieve. I was half-awake." She sat straighter in her chair, "Please feel free to go. You are always cooped up in here. Have fun! Tell Nadina not to rush back."

"Are you sure, Madame? Francois is in the stable yard if you should need anything. I will let him know that we are leaving." Christine simply nodded her head and laid it back down as Genevieve ran out. Sleep came easy to her.

In the dark, Christine felt mist surrounded her. The tiny cold drops swirled and bent around her body and beaded on her skin. She could hear the subdued murmur of flowing water fill her ears. Christine began to inhale deeply and let it go with abandonment, absolving her fear and worry. Without opening her eyes, she knew where she was. The damp, cold air resonated on the cavern walls making a song of its own. Christine smiled in spite of herself. He didn't even have to be there with her. The familiarity of it all was comforting enough to her.

Her fingers caressed the bedclothes that were soft and supple to the touch. Wrapping herself with them, she suddenly felt an arm drape across her stomach. He whispered, "You wouldn't leave me here cold and alone, would you?" He nuzzled his face in between her bare shoulder blades. As he tucked himself behind her, Christine felt his warmth wash over her. His lips gently tapped the nape of her neck. She could feel his hand trace down her body. Opening her eyes, she saw the Persian monkey staring at her perched from the top of the music box. Suddenly, it came to life and tinkled its familiar tune. She smiled and started humming along with it. Then, without cause or reason, the cymbals crashed and clanged loudly. Jumping from the noise, Christine tried to stop it, but no matter how hard she tried, it wouldn't end. The monkey wouldn't stop playing. It kept ringing, and ringing.

Christine jolted awake. The clanging did not stop. It took a moment for her to realize that it was the doorbell. She suddenly wondered why Genevieve didn't answer, but then she remembered telling her to accompany Nadina. Christine quickly wiped away the sleep from her eyes and the little dabble of drool pooled on the side of her face. Looking in a nearby mirror, Christine made herself as presentable as possible before answering the door. The sun was bright and the figure was silhouetted. "Goodness me! I did not mean to wake you, dear girl. Maybe I should call on you another time?"

Christine's eyes adjusted to the light and standing before her was Madame Pountiff. Her heart dropped into her stomach. "Richelle? Madame Pountiff, of course not. Please, come in." Christine ushered her through the entryway. "Would you like me to take your coat?"

"Thank you, Christine. I must say! Your home is simply splendid. It's quite quaint, really," Richelle remarked sweeping off her cloak revealing a grand sapphire satin gown. Christine noticed how strikingly similar it was to her own dress she wore the night she attended dinner at their house. Richelle noticed Christine's staring. "You know, they say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. As soon as I had it made, I had to come show you." Christine smiled curtly and took her wraps. "You know, dear, I must have rang that bell twenty times before you answered. Where are all your servants? I was just about to leave when you opened the door."

"Well, Richelle, perseverance has always been your strongest asset," Christine quipped. "Or is it your timing? Nadina and Genevieve are out doing some shopping."

"Nadi – Oh! You mean your maid and cook! How funny! You were referring to them as if they had some significance to me. Oh, it's just as well! And where is that husband of yours?" Richelle asked peering around the room. "I hope he is not lurking about."

"Yes, how fortunate that you just missed Raoul's departure," Christine said trying to keep smiling.

"Silly men folk!" Richelle said as she tossed her hand into the air. "They feel such a need to protect us. You know, we are the stronger species. We are capable of taking care of ourselves." Christine led her into the parlor. Richelle delicately sat down and continued, "I understand that Raoul loves you dearly, but to make a scene like that! Why, it was simply scandalous! But, the past is the past. I can't let something that silly get in the way of our friendship. Had I known you were with child – well, I would have known better than to ask. Really, Christine, I thought we were better friends than that! I had to learn of your happy news from none other that that silly old biddy, Madame de Gent."

Before Christine could interject, Genevieve miraculously appeared with a tea platter. She whispered to Christine, "I am sorry. As we came up the road, I saw her coach. I got here as fast as I could. If I had known that witch was coming, I would have stayed." Christine simply shook her head to show Genevieve not to worry. Genevieve curtsied and left.

Richelle clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Absolutely no manners, whispering like that." She turned to Christine, "I don't know why you stand for it. She would last a day in my household! But that is not why I am here. Look at you! Plump and rosy with child. I am sure Raoul is ecstatic! No wonder you've been locked up in this house. You look like you are going to burst any second!" Christine could feel her face burn with more than embarrassment. "Do you think it's wise for Raoul to go out on a little excursion? I mean he's practically stranding you here! What if something were to happen?"

"Well, Richelle, I've hear that we are quite capable of taking care of ourselves. "

"Indeed! Couldn't have said it any better myself! Oh wait, I did, how clever! Messy business, though, children. Ha! That's probably why I don't have any!" Richelle laughed.

"Tea?" Christine asked as sweetly as she could, getting ready to pour a cup.

"Thank you, no. I merely stopped by to see how you were doing and to make sure our little tiff wasn't anything for you to worry your pretty little head over. We are, of course, still friends. I wouldn't let your silly little husband ruin everything for you. I am quite fond of you, you know. Oh! And, of course, I had to show you the dress. But, seriously, Gustoff and I have been so worried for the three of you! Really, we can't argue like this. We are supposed to love thy neighbor as we love ourselves, and I love myself very, very much. I am trying to make an effort here Christine. I really want us to be the best of friends."

Christine put down the teapot a little more forcefully than what she would have liked. "Thank you, Richelle. That is very comforting. If that is all, I am still quite tired. I will see you to the door."

"Of course, my dear," Richelle said as she rose to leave. "I am so glad to have been able to chat with you today. It's been ages, dear, ages. You must let Raoul know that if you ever need anything from us, to not hesitate to ask."

"I will make sure to let Raoul know." Christine opened the door for her. "Thank you for stopping by."

Madame Pountiff gracefully slipped on her cloak and gloves. She held her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. Making her way out, she stopped suddenly and turned back to Christine. "Incidentally, I thought you should know that no one has even mentioned anything about the gala you attended. All my friends in Paris assured me that they've heard nothing of the sort. Madame Sherriney, who, I am told, has been a loyal follower of the opera assured me herself that she had heard nothing of the sort. And, rest assured, she would know." Richelle smiled sweetly at Christine, "Strange, isn't it? Well," Richelle said patting Christine's cheek, "You take care of yourself and that little baby. And give Raoul our love. Gustoff has missed you all so. We will be over as soon as we hear word of the baby's arrival! Bye now!"

Christine's mouth left her mouth half open. Madame Pountiff was already into her carriage when Christine finally whispered, "Bye." She rested her back on the door after she closed it. The drumming of her heart rang in her ears. Her face was still burning. Closing her eyes, she wished her guilt away. "She knows," Christine kept whispering to herself. "She must know." She quickly stopped when she saw Genevieve come from the kitchen to clear the room.

Christine stopped immediately when she heard Genevieve scream. "Oh my goodness! Viscountess!" Genevieve cried pointing to the floor. Christine was standing in a pool of water.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

_**Author's Note**: I'm sorry, it has been REALLY hard to stay motivated lately. Sorry for the lack of updates. I will try to do better. Thanks if you're still reading . . ._

* * *

**Phanatic**: _Sorry if I let you down. I will try to be a better author. Thanks for all your continuing support!_

**phantomfan1911**: _You are simply too flattering. Thanks for all your kind words!_

* * *

Chapter Sixteen 

Madame Giry had been sleeping less and less in the past two weeks. Laying her head down on her pillow, she tried to get her exhausted body to rest, but her mind kept her racing. It was difficult to adjust having two new people in the house. Of course she was glad to have Meg under her roof again, safe and sound. Erik also promised to stay until Meg fully recovered, and Meg was still a long way from being back to the way she was. There was very little change about her, in fact. It was difficult living with a man. Mme. Giry had to be mindful of the way she acted in her own house. Erik was an old friend, of course, but as much as she loved Erik, Mme. Giry found it hard to trust him as she once did. Too much had changed.

Granted, he wasn't the over-powering threat that had terrified her ballet corps once upon a time, but she had allowed herself to feel comfortable with him. For that she blamed herself for much of the terrible acts he committed. He was only a child then and looked to her for approval and guidance. Unfortunately, at only fifteen, Mme. Giry was not in a place or frame of mind where she felt comfortable acting as a mother to a child that was more than half her age. Still, she argued with herself, she should have shown him the way. Perhaps he would have been a better man.

Upon Meg and Erik's return, Mme. Giry was careful not to permit herself to feel as comfortable around Erik as she once did. It was easy in the beginning to shrug off Erik's indifference and outbursts due to his upbringing and lack of parental figures. It was a slow process for Erik to turn out the way he did. She would not allow him the opportunity to manipulate her into one of his pawns again. To her surprise, he remained cordial, even friendly, to her and decided that he would manage the housework and tend to the horse. It was one less thing for Mme. Giry to worry about.

The first week she had spent trying to help Meg was without much success. Meg's constant screaming made her speech incoherent and hoarse. She consistently fought her mother when she attempted to help her. Bruises were appearing on Mme. Giry's hands and face from their battles. Erik remained in the corners of the room, pacing and watching. Erik had to intervene to subdue Meg when she lashed out in inexplicable frenzy and overpowered her mother. Every night he left to procure some food and retrieve fresh water. He did his best to provide for all three of them, but Mme. Giry knew that he was growing tired. She also knew better than to ask him to leave. He had already pledged to stay by her side until Meg had recovered.

Neither Meg nor Erik revealed what had led to this. After constant probing, Erik would only divulge that Meg had been residing at the Opera house for quite some time but he refused to elaborate any further. Meg's fascination with Erik was perplexing. Mme. Giry would watch in horror as her daughter called out to him begging for his forgiveness and pledging to him her undying love. She knew that Erik was uncomfortable and Mme. Giry would assign him tasks outside the house assuring him that she would call upon him if the need ever arose. During the fourth day Mme. Giry simply placed a chair in front of the bed to watch over her daughter, allowing whatever mood Meg was feeling to come over her. Mme. Giry watched in silence as, over and over again, her little girl went from being placid to acting with raging fury within a just few minutes of each other. She tried to remain calm and unattached to it all, but she couldn't help but feel completely helpless.

What Erik had said still plagued her thoughts. She couldn't understand what Erik had meant when he said that Meg wanted to kill Christine. Mme. Giry knew how much Meg adored her. As children, they were like sisters. Everyone always said that if you wanted to find one of the girls, just search for the other. After what had happened that cold March night, Meg was distraught by not being able to find her beloved friend. Both of them were forced to assume the worst. Meg had made it her personal endeavor to find her and bring her back to safety. Mme. Giry had to deal with the possible deaths of three people over her head. Meg was a wonderful support for her during her darkest hours. She made sure that her mother was fed and taken care of. She made sure that her mother's day was brightened if only by a small gesture or simple smile. Mme. Giry knew how lucky she was. Meg was able to breathe life back into her.

Mme. Giry remembered the day that Meg found Christine and Raoul's wedding announcement in the paper. Perhaps she should have recognized the anger and hostility Meg was capable of then. But now it was too late. She couldn't waste her time with the past. Meg needed help now, and feeling sorry for herself and the situation she was in was not the step in the right direction. With her own reasoning, she concluded that Meg only wanted Christine dead for hurting her and her family.

This fixation with Erik was an entirely different matter. The man was twice her age. Meg knew he was dangerous and a threat. Immediately after the fiasco, Meg was upset with her mother for not saying anything about how dangerous Erik was. While Meg was just a young toddler, Erik had shown her favoritism among all the dancers. It was the first time Mme. Giry had ever seen him smile in wonderment and awe as he cradled her young baby in his arms. She never had to wonder about Meg's safety while she was in the theater. She knew he was guarding her with this ever-watchful eye. Erik had even told Mme. Giry, once, that her daughter would be empress someday.

Given their history together, Mme. Giry did not find it surprising when he started his fascination with Christine. She was an orphan, like him. Perhaps just that small similarity made him think that this little girl would be the key to his happiness. Even as a child, she had very angelic features and everyone who saw her took in her charm and radiant glow. Erik was no exception. Seeing him with Meg, she didn't give a second thought about why he latched onto Christine the way he did. To her the answer was simple: He needed to feel wanted. He had spent his entire life in recluse, made to seem less than human. Even though she could not see him, Christine was able to share her most inner thoughts with him. She gave him the friendship that he had so desperately sought his entire life. As her teacher, she adored him without question.

When Christine had begun to blossom, she started to see the changes in Erik. It was not obvious then, but he was smitten with her. During the rehearsals and recitals, Erik always had Christine in full view. He would even become angry with Mme. Giry if she felt the need to correct Christine's steps or admonish her behavior. He was protective of her like any good teacher would be. Beside, Mme. Giry had often said to herself, Meg was first. He always made sure that Meg shined as well.

Why Meg had become fixated on Erik was a question she dared not ask. Questions of any kind were not something that she expected getting answers to, from either of them. Erik made it clear to her that he did not want to talk. Meg made it impossible to ask any kind of question. Mme. Giry could only hope that she would be able to help her daughter and bring her back from the madness that had overtook her.

As the days passed, Mme. Giry could see that there was something different about Erik now. He held a quiet softness to him, a trait she had never seen before. His vulnerability was exposed again and, this time, she immediately sought to comfort and soothe him. She had been his valiant protector and confidante in the beginning. There was no reason to stop now. When others abandoned him, she was there by his side. Seeing him as he was now, her soul felt a certain pride in the man he had become. The conceited monster that took over the poor, frail boy he once was no longer gripped him. She could tell that he felt freer than he had maybe his whole life. But she could tell that, now, his guilt loomed over him. While she was glad that he could feel remorse, she knew that, if not relieved in time, it would cripple him.

By the fifteenth day Meg was still infuriated and refused to speak to her mother. The food Mme. Giry left for her would go untouched until her mother fell asleep. When Madame awoke, the food would be gone. Mme. Giry carefully played with her daughter's hair as she slept. She twirled her long fingers around her golden curls. "At least she is here, safe with me," she would tell herself. Meg's hostility wasn't only directed at her mother. During the times that Erik intervened, Meg would scream at him, trying to kick him in the face and chest. Her passion for him seemed to dwindle with each passing day, much to Mme. Giry's relief. His perceived betrayal, it seemed, forced Meg to turn on him as well.

On their sixteenth day, Meg had a particularly bad episode. It took all of Mme. Giry's nerve to stand by and merely watch her daughter fall to pieces. Erik paced nervously back and forth as Meg seemed to writhe in pain. The frustration was overwhelming. Erik looked sympathetically at Mme. Giry before turning to leave the house. Erik had had enough for the morning. Madame wanted nothing more than to follow him, but stopped herself. Fixing Meg was her duty. The responsibility of it was hers alone. She had never felt more alone and afraid. If Meg did not wake herself from this, Mme. Giry felt Meg would die from it.

Awaking from a small nap, Mme. Giry became resolute in her task. For too long she had doubted herself and used the tragedies in her life as excuses. If Henri could see her now, she knew that he would be disappointed in her. Her beauty had always been fair and great, but it was her boldness and fearless gumption that made Henri fall in love with her. It was how she became headmistress of the Opera Populaire. Her ballet corps was the best in the nation, not because of her flattery, but because of her sheer nerve and dedication to perfection. She measured her life by her success. Now, she knew, it would help her see her daughter through this.

Mme. Giry approached Meg cautiously. Though she tried to hide herself from Meg's view, she stopped when Meg through herself around in a fit of rage. Mme. Giry forcefully grabbed her daughter by her wrists trying to manipulate them behind her back. When Meg started to kick her, Mme. Giry forced her daughter in the bed face down and used her weight to pin Meg's shoulders down with her knees. Meg continued screaming and bucking, but Mme. Giry held fast. "I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS! Stop this now! You can try to fight me Cherie, but you know I will not back down. I am tired of playing your little game! If you are testing my nerves, then you do not know how resolute your mother truly is. Go ahead and continue to fight me! If you insist that I treat you like a child, then I will continue this. But you are a lady now, and this is no way to act. But if you want to fight some more, then please continue. You will tire eventually, and when you wake up we can do this some more. Go on!"

Meg stopped, but Mme. Giry did not leave her post. "Now you will stop this nonsense this very moment! I think I have put up with this for long enough. I did not raise my daughter to be an animal! This is no way for a person to behave! Do you understand me?" When Meg didn't answer, Mme. Giry screamed again at her, "Do you understand!"

Meg gave one more half-hearted squirm before stopping. A quiet sob, "Yes, Mama," was all Meg could whisper coherently.

"That's better," Mme. Giry said triumphantly. "Now I am going to get off, but I will not hesitate to do this again should the need arise. You will conduct yourself like a lady." Madame rose slowly, arming herself should Meg retaliate. To her surprise, she didn't. Mme. Giry eased herself off the bed. Meg lay quiet, tears streaming down the side of her face. Mme. Giry sat down next to her and began stroking her hair. She was softly humming a lullaby. Meg cried harder. Her mother began running her hand up and down her back. "I should have come after you," Mme. Giry whispered to her. "My pride and vanity got in the way, I'm sorry." She laid on the next to her daughter, cradling her in her arms as best she could. "I didn't mean to make it so hard for you. It's all my fault. I should never have expec – expected you to do my job." Mme. Giry buried her face in Meg's hair. "Your father would be ashamed of me, but I promise we'll get through this." She squeezed her daughter in an embrace. "Okay?"

Meg calmly whispered through her sobbing, "Yes, Mama."

Madame. stayed by her side until Meg fell asleep. She emptied all the waste bins that accumulated. Mme. Giry started to warm water for a bath. Since Meg's arrival, she finally felt peace inside. Reclaiming her authority would not be easy, she knew. Meg had been living her own life for almost two years. When she started to disrobe, she heard a resonant voice call out to her, "Clarise?" Erik was standing behind her, turned to one side to protect her privacy. Mme. Giry quickly re-dressed herself.

"I did not think you were coming back so soon." She turned to Erik. Smiling, she said, "You have not called me by that name since I was married."

"I'm sorry, Mada - " Erik began

Mme. Giry interrupted, "No, Erik, don't apologize. That is my name, after all. It is just strange. No one has called me by that name in years." She nodded to Meg. "I think she finally understands. From this day, I do not think that she will be a problem to handle. I just had to realize," she paused, "that I am her mother. If I can't help her, who can?" Her eyes started to tear. "If Henri could see me now - "

"He would be so proud, Clarise," Erik interjected. "This is not your fault. All these years you have been so kind to me. I ruined everything for you," he said quietly. "If any one is to blame, it's me."

"No, Erik, no. No one is to blame. Well, perhaps, Fate," she laughed nervously. "All this happened for a reason. For what greater purpose, I do not know." They quietly acknowledged the awkward silence. What needed to be said had finally been said and they sat together at the kitchen table, not needing to say anything more. Finally Mme. Giry whispered, "Thank you, Erik, for bringing me to her." He nodded. She grabbed his hand delicately from across the table. "I think she will be all right now. I will understand if you leave us."

He placed his hands on top of hers. "You know I would not," Erik answered back. "You have been -my greatest friend. I would never be able to repay your kindness."

"You have paid me back by tenfold." Clarise tenderly stroked his face. "I am a greater person by knowing you. You see, I have had the opportunity to see so many sides of you that hide from everyone else. I will always hold you dear to me." She got up to make some tea. "You know, if I had the chance, knowing what I do now, I do not know if I would have chosen to be with Henri. You had been so fond of me."

"Clarise," Erik smiled at her, "I was a foolish boy with a crush. When Henri came into your life, you left mine. You were my only friend. I was jealous, that's all."

"Still," Mme. Giry continued, "We were both foolish, young people. Things might have been different for us both." She set the teakettle on the stove. Turning back she said softly, "You deserved to be loved, too."

Erik smiled sadly to himself. "It was not in my fate, I suppose," whispered mostly to himself. He looked back over to the bath and said, "I am interrupting you. Please, continue." He turned away and walked to the door. "I will be in the stable if you should need me further."

"But the tea," Mme. Giry started, but Erik waved her off and continued for the door. Her heart hurt only for a moment before she resigned to her much-needed bath.

When she finished, Erik was waiting for her at the table. There was a fresh cup of tea on the table. She looked over to him, "Erik, I –" He stopped her. Erik joined her and pulled a large wallet from his coat pocket. He set it on the table and slid it across to Mme. Giry. Puzzled, she carefully picked up. The parcel he had given her lay heavy in her hands. She untied its wrappings and was surprised to find it packed with billfolds. She gasped, "Erik!" Thumbing through the pile she looked up and told him, "I cannot accept this. Erik, there must be over 150,000 Franks in here!"

"Actually, I think it's a little over 180,000. Enough to start a new school of your own. Start fresh. I have enough provisions." He looked to the ground. "Please, it's the least I could do. Take it." He held up his hands to show the surroundings. "You are so much better than this. Let me help you."

She sat and stared at the money for a few moments. There were tears in her eyes as she reached across the table, knocking the tea across the top of it. Kissing Erik more passionately than she intended to, her tears felt warm against his cheek. "Thank you," Mme. Giry whispered to him after they broke their embrace. "I will pay you back, all of it, I swear." She saw tears welling in his eyes, "Please, say you'll stay here with us. I cannot do this without you."


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Twinkle22:** _Hope this update was fast enough. Thanks for reading!_

**Penmore Zenith:** _Thanks for taking the time to read my story. I do try and stay true to characters, but sometimes it can be quite hard. And thanks for not hating me cause I'm not a Raoul-hater. There seems to be a lot of them here. I am glad that you are enjoying it!_

**phantomfan1911:** _Gotta love your loyal readers. Thanks for sticking with me!_

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

The construction of the new theater was going more smoothly than Madame Giry had expected. The workers that she had contracted worked long hours, sometimes into the night. The foreman made certain that every aspect of the building was perfect. He was a pleasant man in his fifties. Ben-Roy, or Ben, as he insisted he be called, had a very soft look about him. Though he was along in years, his hair still had bold streaks of black in it and a smart moustache to match. His round cheeks were still full of childhood innocence.

Soon after contracting him, Mme. Giry was asked if her husband would be available to watch over the construction. "My husband passed away fifteen years ago," was her short reply and when Ben discovered that she was starting this endeavor alone, he took it as his personal mission to help her along the way. He was always mindful to ask her opinion and consult her on every detail that needed to be discussed or changed. There was a fondness for her that had been growing with all of their interludes.

She could not tell if his smiles and side-glances alluded to more than just friendly discourse. Mme. Giry did not have the courage to ask him, but smiled to herself whenever she caught his eyes twinkling at her. She liked the look of him and was fond of his gentle personality and respectful manner. As the weeks progressed, she found herself primping in the mirror more than usual if she had to go the construction site.

Erik took it upon himself to scrutinize every board and frame that the workers had put up during the day, and lurked about the construction site at night. He would report back of any discrepancies he found or made suggestions for certain room layouts. Mme. Giry knew that he secretly wanted to be included in the building's plan and development, even if he didn't tell her so outright. She indulged him by accepting his blueprints and submitting them to Ben to use at Ben's own discretion. Erik had promised there were to be no more secrets, no more hidden rooms, and no more lies. She felt confident that he understood this was her project.

Ben never asked who her mysterious architect might have been, though he might have speculated. He learned early in life that a gentleman should never ask the secrets of a lady he admires. Still, he appreciated the designs and never made mention to Mme. Giry of the brilliance behind them. Secretly, his heart may have been saddened at the thought of another man in her life, but he made sure that Mme. Giry always had fresh roses awaiting her arrival each day she cam to check the progress of the building.

As it was closer to being completed, Ben asked her to stop coming until it was finished in its entirety. He was tempted to elongate his progress if only to spend more time with her, but his years of experience and diligence to his work would not let him. The school was finished two weeks before schedule. He made sure he was dapper the day she was to complete the final inspection with him.

He stood up straight as he saw her carriage drawing near. As always, her hooded horseman held her hand as she stepped out, but Ben was surprised to see a younger maiden emerge out of the carriage as well. He did not need to ask, the young woman was an exact replica of her mother. He bowed courteously to the pair. Mme. Giry softly laughed, "You are so traditional, Ben." She turned to Meg, "This is my daughter, Meg Giry. I wanted her to see it finished. Will it be all right if she accompanies us?"

Ben took Meg's hand warmly, "Of course it is. It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear." Meg simply curtsied and looked back to her mother. Ben held out his hand to lead the way. He asked Mme. Giry as he handed the keys out to her, "Would you like the honor?"

Giddy, Mme. Giry took the keys and feverishly turned the lock as Ben held the double door opened for them. The clean smell of newly lumbered wood collided with them as they made their way into the lobby. Madame Giry "ooo-ed" and "ahh-ed" over the inlayed Queen Anne hardwood floor and ornate crystal windows. Ben even took it upon himself to start a fire in the fireplace that was the main attraction of the lobby. He watched her walk the length of the room stopping occasionally to trace her hand along the wooded frames. She turned to Meg, "Isn't this beautiful?" Meg only nodded as Mme. Giry beamed back at Ben. "It is so elegant." She was standing so picturesque framed by the flooding light of the window. Ben was so enraptured by the hairs framing her face that he almost forgot that there was more to show them.

The ballet training room seemed to go on for miles with the installation of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Letting go of her mother's hand, Meg glided to one of the balance bars. Mme. Giry looked on as her daughter practiced a few steps. Looking back at the mirrors Clarise absent-mindedly fixed her figure and appearance in the reflection and saw Ben softly chuckle to himself. He coughed softly to break the awkward moment. His smile was so warm and genuine that Clarise found it difficult to keep her ears from turning pink. She smiled gratefully at him and walked back to Meg. "See," Mme. Giry whispered, "This will be a new start for the two of us. You can help me teach. Daughter, or not, you were my best dancer. You can lead this school to greatness, I know it."

The stage was magnificent and perfectly proportioned to the building. There was enough room for a full troop, but even the smallest performance wouldn't feel empty or overwhelmed. Meg cautiously headed to the front of the stage to look over the audience. There were four seating boxes overhead and Meg looked into each one as if searching for someone. Lost in her rapture, Mme. Giry and Ben left Meg on the stage and headed behind the velvet curtains.

Backstage, the dressing area was carefully designed to accommodate the soon-to-be frenzy of dancers Mme. Giry had began to imagine in her head. There was enough storage area for props and costumes. She went back to the make-up counters and sat in one of the seats. Looking into the mirror, she saw Erik carefully hidden in the rafters above the stage. Turning quickly to see him, he had already disappeared in old form. She looked back nervously at the mirror to see if Erik was still there. Anxiety only filled her mind for a moment and she was startled as Ben came into view. She breathed a small sigh of relief. Erik was only hiding himself from Ben. "I did not mean to startle you, Madame," he said, concerned.

"Oh, it was nothing, Ben. I was lost in a moment," she smiled radiantly at him. "Being back here brings back so many old memories of my old life I thought I had forgotten."

He asked, "Were you a stage dancer as well?"

"Long ago," she answered. Feeling her pride swell in her chest she asked, "Have you ever been to Paris?"

"Once, as a young boy," Ben enjoyed this moment of friendliness. "And even then, I found it horribly busy and too loud. I am much more suited to this country life, I think. My grandfather was helping with the construction of the new dormitories in the opera house. The Opera Populaire, I think it was. My father went along to help and I accompanied him."

"What a small world this is!" Madame Giry exclaimed. "For those were the same dormitories that I lived most of my life in. To think that I have been able to see your families work firsthand and not known it."

Ben smiled, "Then how fortunate that we were to meet in Troyes." He laughed, "Let us hope, then, that you will not be plagued with ghosts or phantoms while you are here." Seeing her smile falter, he quickly added, "I hope that I did not offend you. I have only heard rumors and tales from Paris and your ill-fated opera house."

"That is all they were. Stories and rumors," she looked back into the mirror. "There are no such things as ghosts and goblins. If there ever was a 'Phantom' I am sure there was a real man behind him. A lonely man who deserved better than what this life gave him." She turned back to Ben, smiling at her surroundings, she said, "This is perfect. This is everything I hoped it would be and more."

"I still have one more area to show you, my dear," he said as he held out his hand to help her out of the seat.

Ben finally led mother and daughter to their living quarters and Mme. Giry felt immediately at home as she walked into the main living space. Ben stood patiently as they went from room to room. Mme. Giry was carefully planning how she was to place her furniture and other belongings to make it her own. Meg looked content as she followed her mother before asking which room was to be hers. Ben showed the pair the three bedrooms placed in a row. Modesty stopped him from asking whom the third room was for.  
When they came back out, Mme. Giry warmly embraced Ben, kissing him twice on both of his ever-reddening cheeks.

"You are pleased, then?" he softly asked her.

"Ben, it is beautiful," she said breathlessly, twirling in a small circle. "I could never imagine anything more perfectly suited that what you have made for us. Thank you. We will moved in within the week."  
As he walked them back to the front door, Ben couldn't stop smiling in spite of himself. The daughter who was so quiet and reserved was now excitedly talking to her mother about how to set up the school. In the lobby, he doused the fire with water and led them back to the courtyard. Carefully removing the key from the lock, it was with certain pride that he handed Mme. Giry the keys to her new home. She cooed once more, "Ben, I cannot thank you enough for the beautiful work you did."

"I feel guilty, almost, accepting your praise," Ben smiled humbly. "I must confess that your design plans were some of the best I have seen. I simply brought those plans to reality. Whoever made them is the real genius."

Mme. Giry nervously smiled and looked at her horseman waiting for their return. "Thank you," she looked back at Ben, "I will be sure to pass that along." Locking the front door behind her, she turned to Ben. "My friend is always happy to hear that his work is valued. I know that it took him a lot of time and effort creating this for us."

"Well, when a man is captured at the heart by a beautiful woman, he is capable of many great things," he sighed with a slightly disappointed tone. "Be sure to give him my congratulations of a wonderful success. I am sure it is not any man that can win your affections."

Mme. Giry finally understood Ben's intentions and careful questions. Desperately in need of guidance, she turned to her horseman to think of an appropriate response, but found no help from him. She fought with herself as she thought of the best way to let Ben know about Erik's significance to her without giving Erik away, but couldn't articulate the thoughts in her head. "No, Ben it is not that. He is – he is," she stammered.

He stopped her from continuing. "He is a lucky man, indeed." Ben looked only somewhat pained as he tipped his hat to her to bid her farewell. "Madame Giry," he turned to Meg, "Mademoiselle."

Mme. Giry awkwardly watched him walk slowly to his horse and cart. She wanted him to stop, but did not know how she could. So she stood helplessly at her carriage and watched him drive away.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Twinkle22:** _Thanks for reading. All your praise mans the world to me. I appreciate you taking the time to read my story._

**phantomfan1911:** _Your flattery really is too much. Thank you so much! Hope you enjoy this chapter, Christine reappears._

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

Motherhood was more rewarding than she ever envisioned. Though having two little ones tried her patience some days, Christine learned to separate herself from the chaos and remain calm during the tantrums and crying spells that happened all too often. She didn't really know what had changed about her, but only hoped that it would stay. She finally felt comfortable to be with her children and was delighted to see the love she projected on them be returned to her in tenfold. Her two little boys had so much love and admiration for her, she often found it hard to breathe as they coddled and cooed over her.

Stephan was her favorite. Christine tried to hide it, but his sweet and quiet demeanor quickly won her heart over. His presence, though, captivated all those around him. Given his relatively calm personality, it was surprising how he entered this world with great thunder and authority. His birth was a fiasco for the whole household.

After her water broke, Christine immediately went into panic beyond recognition. Genevieve was in a frenzy getting Christine calm enough to climb the stairs to where she had started to prepare the bedroom for delivery. Nadina was still nowhere to be found. Christine called out for her. Genevieve nervously replied, "She be here in a minute. She is sending Francois out for the midwife."

The contractions did not offer Christine a moment to collect her thoughts. As she tried to prepare the bedroom for the delivery, she was thwarted by mind-numbing pain that took over her entire body. Christine tried to delay the baby's delivery until someone was there to help. Christine kept praying that Nadina would return soon as Genevieve would only huddle in the corner wincing with Christine's screams and shielding her eyes when it was too much for her to bear. While it only a brief moment, it seemed forever before Nadina finally came to Christine's rescue.

"You silly goose of a girl!" Nadina screamed at Genevieve. "Just lettin' the mistress deliver this baby herself! Now be useful go fetch us a basin of hot water." She directed Christine back to the bed. "You're doing fine. After all, been through this once before, so this shouldn't be brand new to you." Christine was quietly sobbing in the wake of a terrible contraction. "But we do forget about the pain though, don't we?" She laughed, "That's just God's way of tricking us into letting our husbands get near us again. If we remembered, we wouldn't even sleep together in the same room, love!" Nadina started grabbing towels and laid them off to the side. "Now get up on that bed and save your energy for when you really need it. The midwife should be here any minute." Nadina sat beside Christine. "We'll just wait right here until she does."

Soon thereafter, Christine began to feel the need to push. With each agonizing contraction, Christine could feel the baby making its way out. It was finally too much to bear. She screamed out to Nadina, "It won't wait! The baby is coming now!"

Nadina immediately jumped to attention. Muttering more to herself, she annoyingly whispered, "Where is that girl and my water?" She pulled a spare sheet from the linen closet. Tying it to one of the posters on the bed tightly, she knotted the other end and gave it to Christine. "This is the only way I know how to do this. Now this may not be like the first time, but it'll work, believe you me." She kneeled on the foot of the bed. "Next time you feel one coming on, use this to pull on and push that baby out. I'll be here to catch it."

On the next wave of pressure, Christine bore down and pushed hard and slowly. She stopped to regain her breath and almost keeled over with faintness. "Oooo, that's a good one, milady! Just take your breath and we'll do it again," Nadina said excitedly. "What a brave lass you are! Just wait till the master hears about this. Heads are going to roll." Christine's pain kept washing over her and she began to push again. "Looky there, you can see the baby's head!" Nadina screamed out. Reaching down, Christine felt the baby's head crowning. "Al'right, just one more. This baby's not wasting any time. It's ready to come out and greet us. I wish I had it this easy with mine!" On the next push Nadina cradled the tiny head between her hands and Christine slowly pushed the rest of it out. "It's a boy, Countess! A little angel." As the cold draft billowed through the room, he began to cry furiously. "Listen to that, fine set of lungs, just like your Mama!" Nadina wrapped him in a towel and handed him to Christine. The mother cradled him against her chest, smiling and laughing.

A loud crash erupted from the doorway. The water from the basin the maid was carrying splashed across the floor. "Madame! The baby - " She quickly regained her composure. "I am sorry, Countess. I couldn't get the water heated fast enough. I panicked when I saw the baby. I'll clean this up right away!" She thought better of this and exclaimed, "No, I will get some more water first!" Her feet lost their footing on the floor and she slid and fell against the walls in her hurry to fetch another basin of water.

Nadina cried after her, "Now don't go bothering her with your nervousness, and mind that you don't break your neck goin' down those stairs!" Nadina turned back to Christine and said softly, "You did a fine job, miss. I'll get this cleaned up right and quick."

Christine laughed, "Please, it's fine. Take your time." She stared into his face. "The worst part is over."

Christine heard a roaring commotion coming up the stairs. Raoul didn't have time to see the water on the floor. Before Christine could warn him, she saw his feet flip up in the air as he landed on his back. Perplexed, Raoul slowly pulled himself up from the floor. Water was dripping from his fingertips. He examined himself carefully before commenting, "I hope this is just water." When he looked up, he saw she was holding the baby in her arms. He quickly ran to her side. "Already?"

She smiled sweetly to him. "Another boy, Raoul." He didn't have the opportunity to speak as the midwife rushed into the room.

"Everyone out!" she ordered. "Yes," he looked at Raoul, "You, too." After she ushered them out and closed the door behind her, she turned back to Christine and the baby. "Now, let's have a look here," she said smiling, "What a beautiful baby- " she peeked underneath the wrappings, "Boy! May I take him from you?" Looking over fingers and toes, the midwife started cooing to him, "You're Mama did a fine job. Yes, a fine job, indeed. Now we must look into the matter of separating the two of you." The baby began softly crying, as though the thought of it pained him. The midwife winked at Christine before looking back at the baby, "I know, I know. But I promise that it's for the best. Let's get you back to Mama while I finish this busniess." Christine welcomed him back into her arms.

The midwife pulled out her satchel and began to crimp and cut. In a matter of minutes she finished with Christine and returned her attention to the baby. She carefully examined him, making sure to clean him thoroughly. Turning her attention to the baby's face she opened the baby's eyes and softly whispered, "Now that is something you do not usually see."

Troubled, Christine snapped up. "Is everything okay?"

"Nothing to alarm yourself with," she gently laughed at her. "Most babies have blue eyes at birth that, in time, change colors to whatever they are supposed to be. This one has the most vibrant green eyes I have ever seen."

"Green eyes?" Christine asked nervously. "Are you sure?"

"Well, as I said, they could change later." She smiled back at her. "You did a wonderful job. He is fit and healthy. That birthmark should fade in a few short months. Just normal coloring for a baby. Nothing to worry over. Great color, full head of black hair! Yes, my dear, you did well. You are going to be up and running shortly, I know it. You two should get better acquainted. I'll be around in a few weeks to make sure everything is healing as it should and that the baby is feeding properly." She gathered her things and started packing everything away. "But you should take it easy. You have plenty enough people in the household to see to the daily tasks. Be sure that they don't bother you and the baby, you hear?"

Christine nodded and bid her farewell. She gazed back down on her son who was resting peacefully in her arms. "Green eyes?" She whispered to herself. She examined his little body. He looked up at her and opened his eyes slightly. She saw his striking fire-burst green eyes staring back into hers. Golden around the pupil, it faded into a vivid sea green. She didn't notice a birthmark before. Christine had to look closer, but she barely noticed a slight redness on the right side of his face. Just as she was inspecting it in finer detail, Raoul burst into the room.

"Are you all right? I knew I shouldn't have left," Raoul said mostly to himself as he walked next to the bed and leaned over to check on his wife and child.

"You couldn't have known," Christine comforted him. "Besides, everything turned all right in the end." She looked back onto her newborn son. "I am glad it's over, though," she said tiredly. "Thank goodness he is finally here and I won't have to waddle from place to place. Now all we have to worry about is nightly feedings and dirty naps. And then there's Jean. He won't know what to do now that he'll have to share us with a new one."

"We could always get a nanny," Raoul interjected.

"Nadina would kill us, you know that," Christine said, slapping Raoul's arm gently. "She's been waiting for another baby to fuss over for so long. Besides, it will be good for Jean. Did he enjoy his fishing trip?"

"Immensely," Raoul smiled brightly. "You should feel safe knowing that if my fortune were to disappear, Jean would able to put food on the table. He caught three big ones with very little help from me."

"And you?" Christine asked.

"Just one," Raoul held out his fingers a few centimeters apart. "It was huge." He laughed heartily. "Now are you going to let me hold my son, or do I only get to look at him from afar?"

Christine patted the space next to her, where Raoul sat down. Smiling, Christine placed the baby into his arms. Raoul took a moment to carefully look over his son. His thick black hair stuck straight up from the top of his head. His little fingers firmly grasped Raoul's. The baby gently cooed to him. Raoul smiled in spite of himself. "Christine, he's beautiful." He glanced back up to her, "He looks exactly like you." "Good strong grip, too." Looking back down, he commented, "But those eyes. Aren't they wonderful?"

Christine smiled meekly. "Yes, Raoul, they're lovely." Trying to change focus, she asked, "Well, what shall we name him?"

"I thought we decided on Phillippe," Raoul replied, puzzled. "We were going to give him a family name, remember?"

"I don't know, Raoul. He doesn't look like a 'Phillippe.'" She whispered back looking at their new child. "It almost sounds too pretentious for him." After more pondering, she said to Raoul, "I don't want to disappoint you, but I think Stephan suits him."

"Stephan?" Raoul repeated back slowly. After more thinking, he continued, "Stephan is a good, strong name." He asked the baby, "Do you look like a Stephan?" Raoul leaned in and nuzzled Christine's neck. "Well, I named Jean. It's only fair that you get to name this one. Still, I think that we could still give him my brother's name as well. He has no namesake and was honored when I told him of our original intention. Will you allow him that honor my dear?"

Christine smiled and nodded. "Well, I think that is a fair compromise."

He held the baby up. "Stephan Phillippe de Chagny it is, then! Fine name for our noble son, born this Sixteenth day of August," Raoul cried out triumphantly. He turned to Christine, "I am sure he will do great many things."

What seemed like yesterday to Christine turned into three months. The birthmark faded over time, just like the midwife had said, but during the brief moments when Stephan became angry or flustered, it turned red and more pronounced. His eyes never changed. At a glance, Christine would catch her breath and her stomach would tighten. He had the same mischievous grin. The authority his presence demanded grew every day. When no one else was around, Christine could hear him softly singing to himself.

Raoul never guessed, or if he did, he hid it remarkably well from Christine. At times Christine could convince her mind that Stephan was Raoul's. In that light, in some way, Christine tried to see some resemblance to Raoul or his family. In the moments that they shared together, Christine knew that Stephan loved Raoul as any child could love a parent. However, in her heart, there was no question; Stephan was Erik's child.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Twinkle22:** _Your review as lovely as ever. Thanks for being a loyal "phan!"_

**Kimber32539:** _Any writer loves to hear that their work is appreciated. Thanks for taking the time to read mine. I hope to live up to expectiation. Enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

The letter had been sealed with the church's stamp. There was no return address, save for the Paris city postmarking. When Genevieve delivered it, Christine was only puzzled for a moment until she saw the name etched into the wax: Rapier. Her heart started pounding ferociously and her fingers shook as she hurriedly ripped the envelope apart. Inside was a flier printed in simple letters of a traveling fair in Paris that week. Father Rapier had also written a letter.

Dear Viscountess de Chagny,

I hope this letter finds you and your family doing well. Your recent contribution to the church is most appreciated. I do hope that you do plan on fulling a church duty that I gave to you as your personal charge. The Heavenly Father is always actively seeking ways to reform his children back to the roots of the church. If you can spare the time away from your family, I would be obliged to ask for your help this week during our time of need. We can provide your lodging and many of the Sisters here look forward to seeing you once again.

Sincerely,

Father Rapier

Guilt washed over Christine. She had forgotten during her pregnancy of the promise she made to Father Rapier to find Erik's mother. She thought that it was clever of him to write her a letter so discriminately. Raoul would never question the intention behind her permission to travel. Stephan was nearly nine months old now and she felt comfortable in asking for this small favor. Their marriage was more of a union now that Stephan had arrived and Christine no longer felt the impending dread that had once encompassed her life. Raoul gave her his best wishes and quickly made arrangements for her to travel to Paris. Stephan and Genevieve would accompany her on the trip.

The cathedral, it seemed, was waiting for her arrival as she was promptly given a room in the Nunnery. As they began to unpack, Christine was greeted warmly by the priest. While Genevieve was putting Stephan to sleep in their room, Father Rapier asked her to accompany him to his chamber.

"I was surprised to see a little one," he stated as he sat down behind his desk. "He looks fit, fine and healthy. I imagine that must have been what was keeping you."

Christine sheepishly replied, "Yes, Father, it was. But I am here now."

"And you are," he said warmly. "From that flier, you know that the fair will only be in town two more days. We don't have much time left. I tried, unsuccessfully, to enter the arena, but was escorted out by two very brute men within minutes of my arrival." He rubbed his face with his palms. "You are my last hope. "

"I will do my best," Christine said earnestly.

"She should know where Erik is, but unfortunately, he has gone missing. The Opera Populaire is completely abandoned. I went to see myself. You wouldn't know where to find him," Father Rapier asked.

After Christine shook her head vehemently, he sighed and continued, "Still she should know about him. But, if we could find just one more tidbit about his past; who the father is, a family name, a birth record, a death record, it might help us unlock the mystery around Erik. Only she would know. I can only imagine what she might think of you, telling her what the truth might be," he said wearily. "I do not want you to go alone, but I don't know of any other way. Hopefully she is still there and will grant you this one request." He went to his bookcase and pulled out a tattered piece of cloth that Christine did not immediately recognize. "I found it surprising that he kept this all these years. When Erik first came to me, he wanted repentance. He wanted to shed his old image and start a new path to righteousness." Father Rapier handed the dirty rag to Christine.

She felt over the crude cloth that smelled of death and decay. It was a bag of some sorts. She turned it over and was shocked to see three holes cut into it. It seemed all too familiar to her. She whispered, "A mask." She looked back up to the priest. "HIS mask," she stressed. Father Rapier grimly nodded his head. "And what do you want me to do with this?"

"If you get the chance to meet Yessinia, I think you should return this to her. I fear that it is probably the only remaining artifact of the son she lost, and it might be the only way she'll listen to what you have to say." He sighed heavily. "I do not know how she will respond. My only worry is to have you risk bodily harm in doing this task for me."

"Erik is indebted to you for your kindness." Christine looked back to the mask. "I am indebted to you as well. This small favor you ask of me is one that I will do gladly, for the both of you."

"God speed to you, child," Father Rapier said thankfully. "The festivities start at sundown."

Christine thanked him and went back into her room, tucking the mask into the bosom of her dress. Stephan was sleeping peacefully with Genevieve napping by his side. The remainder of the day her thoughts were inundated with mental pictures of what Erik's childhood must have been like. Looking at her own child safe and warm in his bed, she couldn't imagine the pain that Yessinia must have felt seeing her child being treated less than a common animal. She carefully placed the mask into a small handbag. Her hand rested upon it for a moment before she heard Stephan's whimpers.

Later that night, she told Genevieve that she would be traveling down to the bazaar to help with the Father's task. Genevieve, worried, cautioned her, "Please be careful, milady. There are bound to be unsavory characters out tonight."

"Thank you for your concern," Christine said, her voice slightly shaking. "I think it will be all right. After all, I am just humbly spreading the word of God." Stephan cooed at her. She playfully whispered to him, "You best be a good little boy to Geni." Kissing him on both cheeks and bidding Genevieve goodbye, she solemnly left the room.

Her heart would not beat any faster. She could hear it in her ears. Christine was able to see the parading and laughing from the town square. It was amazing for her to see all the spectacle and fanfare. There were fireworks and fanciful magic tricks at every corner. The gypsies watched her with a careful eye, but held their tongues as she opened her pocketbook and gave them generous donations.

Champagne and ales were being poured in excess and many of the bystanders were blissful in their inebriation. There was much to see and Christine seemed to lose the purpose of her mission as she continued to take it all in. She walked past the cart two times before she finally realized it was there. In big, bold lettering, "Mama Nia's Mystical Palm Readings" fanned over the entrance away from the festivities. There were many happy, young couples that wanted to see how their lives together would fare. The line circled around the wagon twice. Christine thought it would be best to wait until later in the evening to chance her luck with the Madame.

It was nearly sunrise when the shops had started to close. Christine took the opportunity to walk back to the cart and seek her fortune. Just as she tried to enter, the door slammed shut. Christine pounded on the door. "Please, I am only in town this evening and will be more than generous if you give me this opportunity. I need your help."

The door opened a crack and Christine saw her bright green eyes shining from within. "I am tired, Madame. It would take a small fortune to rouse me from my bed at this late hour."

Christine pulled her coin purse from her bag, jingling the coins it held within. "I hope this will suffice to wake your tired eyes." Mama Nia held out her hands and Christine dumped the gold coins into them. After pulling her hand back in, Christine could hear her counting the coins.

The door was quickly opened. "This is a charitable sum. You must have a dire need," Mama Nia purred as she led Christine inside the small booth. "I will be happy to assist you. Please have a seat." Christine looked at the magnificent cloths draping over the walls in brilliant purples and blues, and placed her bag next to her feet. Mama Nia took her place behind the crystal orb and placed her hands on the table, palm side up. "Your hands, please, Madame," she instructed her patron. Christine did so willingly.

While Mama Nia looked over Christine's hands, Christine took every effort to remember her face. Though she was along in her years, Christine was surprised to see how young she looked. The lines etched in her olive skin, but Christine could see the ravishing beauty she must have been once. Her lips were still plump and her figure shapely. Her black hair, though white at the temples, waved and curled elegantly over her shoulders and back. The sloping, elegant nose was exactly the same as Erik's. The eyes, though, was what Christine focused on. They shared the same gentle ferociousness as his.

Mama Nia was still inspecting her palms. She ran her thumbs over the lines in Christine's hands. Finally, looking back into Christine's eyes, she asked, "What is it you are here for my child?"

Although Christine was tempted to tell her the truth, she resisted. "I am troubled, and I do not know how to fix what I have broken," Christine half-heartedly lied. "I do not know where to go."

Mama Nia looked back into her hands, "Does your husband know the child is not his?" Christine pulled back her hands snappishly. She immediately felt her face grow warm and turn red. Mama Nia laughed, "Do not worry Madame, your secret is safe with me." She turned around to the bureau set behind her and pulled out a case of cigarettes. Pulling one out, she offered one to Christine, who declined. After she lit it and drew it out, she exhaled into the air and asked, "But that is obviously not why you are here, is it?"

Christine felt the urge to leave and tell Father Rapier to find another missionary, but forced herself to remain in the seat. "If you know so much, why don't you tell me?" Christine found it hard to disguise the malevolence in her voice.

Mam Nia took another long, slow draw and exhaled, this time in Christine's face. "You are here from the church. It is obvious that this type of extravaganza is not something that you would do so willingly. Especially without an escort." Mama Nia laughed, "You do not know the kind of trouble you could find yourself in if you aren't wanted." She leaned in closer to Christine, "And you aren't." Mama Nia stood up and turned to the back of the wagon, "Still, I do not think you have come here with any ill will. I have taken your money, happily, so give me whatever charge the 'Holy Father' has asked of you and be on your way."

Christine picked up her handbag and removed the tattered cloth she hid from within. Placing it on the table and slid it to Mama Nia. "I am returning something that belongs to you, Yessinia. You lost it long ago. Father Rapier wanted me to return it to you. I thank you for lending me your time." Christine stood up and started walking out. She was halfway across the square holding her coat in tightly and trying not to stare at the drunkards that catcalled to her, among other demeaning gestures that were thrown at her. Her eyes smarted as she ran the rest of the way to the church. She admonished herself, "I did my best under the circumstances. There was nothing more that I could do." Without wanting to, Christine felt the tears well up in her eyes before they ran down her cheeks.

The entire cathedral was empty and Christine could hear her footsteps resonating throughout the halls. Father Rapier was waiting in his office. "Thank heavens you are here. I was getting worried," he said. When he saw the condition that Christine was in, he placed his arms around her shoulders and let her sob into his cloak. "I am sorry, my child. I should never have asked you to do this." He led her to the chair, closed the door and handed her his handkerchief. "Did you give it to her?"

Christine nodded, but broke into a sobbing fit, "I am sorry Father," Christine croaked in between her sobs. "I failed you. I failed Erik." She tried to continue, but found herself overwhelmed.

Father Rapier sat on his desk and faced Christine, "No you couldn't have known what it would have been like. I shouldn't have asked something this big. You did what I asked of you. There is nothing more you could have done." As he tried to console her, someone knocked softly on the door. As Father Rapier opened it, Christine let out a sigh of astonishment.

Yessinia was carefully caressing the mask Christine had given her. She looked to the priest and asked softly, "How did you get this?" Her tears shone brightly. She collapsed into his arms. Sobbing she said, "Please – please tell me that my son is still alive."


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.**

* * *

**Twinkle22:** _I am all about suspense. Thanks for the review. It means a lot._

* * *

Chapter Twenty

"I named him after his father. Erik came from a very prominent family. I had been traveling with the fair since birth, but after my mother passed away from sickness, my father mysteriously disappeared. There are some people who believed it was my uncle that murdered him and later disposed of his body. Knowing his treacherous nature, I would not put it past him. I was only eleven when my mother died. Her brother, Costin, became my sole caretaker. I had no other immediate family.

"From an early age, I knew that I was different from the other girls I grew up with. Even as a child, many strangers would comment on my beauty and poise. The unique color of my eyes, even now, is a trait cherished by my people. I also started the transformation into becoming a woman much earlier than other girls. By the age of ten I was a head taller than the others and shapelier. I began attracting the attention of many men in our traveling troupe.

"Soon after my mother's death, my uncle began to use my body and beauty to his advantage. I became a dancer whose sole purpose was to make men empty their pocketbooks in the hopes of some personal attention from me. There were many experienced women in my group that did not come close to making the money that I was able to for my uncle. After seeing my 'success' many other girls tried to fashion themselves after me. Younger girls were being sold for extraordinary prices to foreign men who wanted a taste of younger flesh. I was thankful that my uncle shielded me from this despicable horror.

"After two years, I was the highest paid entertainer. At only thirteen I was able to seduce thousands of franks from noblemen and dignitaries in a single evening. I knew many older men came to my uncle with offers to place their sweaty, dirty hands on me in horrible ways; I was not that naïve. I felt confident that my uncle knew that my 'innocence' was one of my most cherished possessions.

"It was hard not to notice Erik. From his clothes and presence, I knew that he was a man of worth. He must have been twice my age. I do not know if he knew how old I really was, but I doubt that it would have dissuaded him from seeking my company. I knew I looked much older than my thirteen years. Perhaps it was my newfound sense of importance or the fact that I had grown tired of merely playing a dancing girl, but when I danced for him, I allowed myself to flirt and banter openly with him. This type of behavior was forbidden, but I loved the way he looked at me and could not stop myself.

"Now, you must understand that in those days, it was not uncommon for a girl of fourteen, fifteen, or even thirteen start looking for a prospective husband. Many families were anxious to marry off their daughters to save money. Many older men had lost wives and were forced to raise their children by themselves. Most were desperate to find a quick replacement. A young, impressionable girl was highly sought after. She could be 'trained' to his every desire.

"While we were in Paris, he came to my show every night for five days straight. Each time he did, he left my Uncle Costin a generous sum of money and gave me a farewell kiss on the palm of my right hand. To this day, I can still feel how his whiskers tickled my palm and how soft his lips felt against my skin.

"The last night I performed, Erik was not there. I am sure my performance that night suffered for it. However, Costin was missing as well. I found this strange, as he was always enticing my patrons to pull out more coins for the chance to have me dance before them. When I went back to the wagon to rest for the night, I saw Erik and Costin sitting at the table with a large amount of gold before them. As soon as they saw I was there, Erik pulled the coins toward him into a small leather pouch. He smiled at me and stood up thanking my uncle. As he left, he stopped next to me and whispered into my ear, 'I have it all arranged. You will meet with me tomorrow night.' Right before he shut the door behind him, Erik called out to my uncle, 'Make sure she is dressed splendidly. It should be a night to remember.' He winked at me. After that, all I could hear in my ears was the 'Thunk, thunk, thunk' of my heart beating rapidly.

"Now you can see what this looks like to a young girl with an infatuation of love and marriage. It was easy for me to think that I had won the heart of a wealthy nobleman with nothing but my looks and charm and he was asking Costin for permission to marry me. I excitedly asked my uncle, 'He desires to have me? Above everyone else?'

"Costin laughed, 'Only you. You are excited then?' I nodded my head enthusiastically. He got up from the table. 'I will have a dress ready for you," he called out to me as he was leaving. 'I must see how we did tonight. Already it has been MOST profitable. You should rest.'

"The next morning, as the troupe was packing up, I remained in my wagon dreaming of a better life. Some of the girls my age had overheard talks of my meeting with Erik and were surrounded me with questions. 'When do you think you will be married?' 'Why do you want to leave us?' 'Do you think he has any other friends that would want to marry me, too?'

"I was quick to brag and boast about how my situation in life was much better than theirs. Magda, an older girl had joined us in the afternoon. She was also a dancer and always jealous of my success. Pouting in the corner, she asked loudly above our chatter, 'Why do you think he wants to marry a Gypsy?' We all stopped and stared at her. She walked up to me, 'What do you think a Frenchman could see in a young, silly Romanian girl that he couldn't find in someone of his own kind?' She laughed at me and rudely gestured in-between her legs, 'This is the only thing of any value to him. And once he has had his fill, he will toss you on the side of the road taking your dignity with him.'

"At this point, I was obstinate. I knew that her mother and father used her as nothing more than an object they could barter with, like many of the other girls at the camp. I retorted, 'And you would know better than any one of us! You are nothing but a low-level prostitute that is jealous of my good fortune.' The girls gasped and stared wide-eyed at the two of us.

"After a moment of silence. Magda put her face nose-to-nose with mine. I anticipated that she would strike me, but Magda laughed, 'You will see. You are stupid to think otherwise. Costin would never let someone like you go. Why else do you think that your father suddenly vanished into thin air? How else would your uncle be able to get his hands on you?' I placed both of my hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. Magda laughed again. "Fine. Stay ignorant. Place your hopes and wishes on someone who sees you as nothing but a whore. You will be quick to apologize to all of us.'

"The other girls comforted me after she left. 'She is just jealous, as you said.' 'She knows that no one will have her now that she has been with so many other men.' They told me how envious they were of my position and how any girl would be so lucky to win a husband like Erik. But Magda had implanted her seed of doubt into my head. It wasn't long before I started to see my situation as she did.

"Costin came by later in the early evening with a pink embroidered dress. He laid it across my bed. He asked, 'Do you need any help getting ready for tonight? I can send someone over.' I shook my head no. My stomach twisted and fluttered with anticipation. Seeing the beautiful dress seemed to me to be the final piece of confirmation of what was to come. It put my worries away.

"Costin drove me away in a small carriage. We arrived at a small cottage just on the outskirts of Paris. It was a simple house with very little furnishing. It caught me by surprise, but Erik was waiting for us in the main room looking relieved and eager to see me. 'I am glad that you were able to find your way,' Erik said smiling at Costin. Erik turned to me and said hoarsely, 'I can't tell you how much I was looking forward to seeing you tonight.' He removed my cloak and gently ran the back of his hand across my cheek. 'You look magnificent.'

"I smiled at him and looked to Costin for the next cue of what was to happen. Costin turned back to Erik. 'So I assume everything is as you wanted?' he asked. Erik nodded and reached into his front pocket to pull out the same leather pouch I had seen him with the night before. He placed the bag into my uncle's hand. 'Here is the remaining amount.' I must have had a puzzled look on my face as stared at Costin.

"Costin laughed, 'Young girls never know what to expect. Take care of this good gentleman. He has rewarded me kindly." Turning back to Erik, he said, 'I will return in two days, as promised.'"

Yessinia stopped for the first time. She looked up to Father Rapier, "It was only then did I realize that my worst dream had come true. Magda had been right from the beginning." Father Rapier placed his hand on top of hers.

Christine loosened her grip on the priest's handkerchief she had clutched in her hands. Her knuckles had grown white. Her mouth that had remained open in horror finally closed.

Yessinia continued, "By the time I realized I was with child, it was already too late." Father Rapier continued to hold her hand. "We had tricks, drank tonics to get rid of any - indiscretions - that might happen." A tear had started running down her face. "I knew that I shouldn't have drank all those poisons, but I was desperate." She looked off into the distance, "My son was born three days before my fourteenth birthday."

"After I had seen his face, I didn't know what to do. They were calling him the 'Demon Child.'" Yessinia sobbed into the hand that Father Rapier was holding. She cried out in-between her gasps, "And it was my fault! I did this to him!"

Christine shuffled in her seat not knowing if there was anything she could do. Father Rapier hugged Yessinia trying to calm her down, "You were young, my dear, there was no way you could have known."

After Yessinia controlled herself, she looked up to the ceiling to stop herself from crying. She whispered, "He was so beautiful in my eyes. The left side of his face was perfect in every way. He looked so much like his father. That's why I named Erik after him. No matter what his father might have done to me, it wasn't my baby's fault. My baby deserved to know the truth." Her nose was running down her face. Christine sheepishly offered the handkerchief she was holding, which Yessinia took willingly. "I never got the opportunity to tell him. My Erik was taken from me. Costin claimed him and started parading him around with the rest of the attractions.

"I should have been stronger. I should have been able to save him from that life," Yessinia whispered. "After Costin was dead, I searched for days. No one knew where he went. Everyone thought him to be dead. Every year we came here, I looked for him. For ten years I tried to find out what became of him. It was too much on my heart to hope every year that I would find him. I gave up." She started crying again, "I gave up on my son, and he was here the entire time waiting for me to find him."

Christine tried to comfort her as best she could, "He grew up to be a powerful, intelligent, and caring man. He is a genius. I would not be the same person without him."

Yessinia smiled at her, "You love him don't you? I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. You saw him the same way I did." Christine pursed her lips and nodded slightly. Yessinia turned to Father Rapier, "I want to see him. I need to know that he's okay." Father Rapier shifted his gaze uneasily to Christine. Yessinia asked in concern, "Is he all right? Is he safe?"

"We don't know where he is," Father Rapier admitted. "He left the opera house months over a year ago. I have not been able to find him."

"Opera house?" Yessinia asked in disbelief. "He is a singer then?" She brightened and then turned to Christine, "He always loved music, even as a child." They sat in silence until Yessinia asked, "But the Opera Populaire has been condemned for over five years. Burned down by the 'Opera Ghost,' the rumors say." When she saw Father Rapier and Christine look uneasily at each other again, she knew, "Erik is the 'Opera Ghost' isn't he?" After Christine nodded, Yessinia slumped in her chair. "I knew he was capable to do great things. But I suppose I should feel grateful knowing that he is alive."

Father Rapier looked at his clock, "Good heavens! We can continue this in the morning. I can supply you with quarters, Nia, if you would prefer to stay here."

Christine immediately piped up, "She can stay in our chambers; we have two extra beds."

Yessinia started to protest, "No, I should really - "

Christine interrupted, "I insist. You should rest here." She got up to help Yessinia up. Mama Nia graciously accepted her arm.

Yessinia asked Christine on their way to their room, "So you are married?" Christine nodded. "But not to my Erik?" Christine shook her head. "Is Erik married?" Christine shook her head once again. Nia only nodded. "It's probably for the best."

Genevieve stood up immediately as the door opened, "Oh Countess! I was so worried!" She ushered the two ladies into the room. "When the sun came up and no sight of you, I started to think the worst."

"We are fine," Christine said yawning. She looked to Yessinia who was sitting on a bed taking off her boots. "This is my handmaiden, Genevieve. Genevieve, this is Mama Nia."

Yessinia was about to lie down when she saw Stephan sleeping peacefully. She asked Christine, "Is he yours?" Christine smiled and nodded. Mama Nia went to his side to look over him. "He is beautiful," she purred. A funny look took over her face.

Christine asked alarmingly, "Is he okay?"

"Yes," Yessinia said slowly. She looked up to Christine and Genevieve, "If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn this was Erik. He looks exactly like him."


End file.
